fornia 
aal 


A  SUPERFLUOUS  WOMAN. 


A 

SUPERFLUOUS 
WOMAN 


NEW  YORK 

THE   CASSELL   PUBLISHING   CO. 

31  EAST  lyxH  ST.  (UNION  SQUARE) 


COPYRIGHT,  1894,  BY 
THE  CASSELL  PUBLISHING  CO. 


All  rights  reservtd. 


THE    MERSHON   COMPANY   PRESS, 
RAHWAY,   N.   j. 


A  SUPERFLUOUS  WOMAN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"DYING?     H'm!"  said  the  doctor. 

He  was  a  short,  square  man  with  great  shoulders; 
and  he  stood  with  his  hands  thrust  into  the  pockets  of 
his  coat,  and  with  his  legs  a  little  apart ;  he  had  for- 
gotten to  turn  down  his  trousers  before  coming  into 
the  room,  so  that  a  pair  of  large  strong  boots,  much 
splashed  with  mud,  planted  themselves  only  too  visibly 
upon  the  carpet.  He  was  not  a  West  End  doctor,  and 
had  made  his  way  to  this  West  End  mansion  by  short 
stages  in  omnibuses  and  by  short  stages  on  foot.  His 
practice  lay  among  the  sores  which  devour  the  flesh  of 
Lazarus.  Most  of  his  hours  were  spent  in  those  hos- 
pitals where  the  maimed  worker  seeks  a  little  respite 
from  misery  before  he  passes  from  the  cruelty  of  the 
world,  and  much  of  his  leisure  in  gratuitous  labor 
among  the  fetid  dens  of  the  poor.  He  seemed  in  his 
own  eyes  to  be  as  a  gatherer  who  binds  together  per- 
petually fallen  sheaves  of  blighted  corn,  and  his  con- 
stant fight  with  death  had  brought  a  grim  look  into  his 
face. 

But  not  into  his  eyes.  These  were  large,  brown, 
soft,  and  penetrating,  and  had  the  look  of  one  who 


2228966 


2  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

brings  a  message,  or  who  entreats  a  favor.  They  called 
this  man  Dr.  Cornerstone. 

"Dying,  doctor!"  repeated  the  lady  with  whom  he 
was  in  converse,  wiping  from  her  eye  the  moisture  of 
sentiment,  while  her  mind  with  really  strong  feeling 
repudiated  his  boots. 

"Madam,"  said  Dr.  Cornerstone,  "perhaps  I  can  see 
my  patient?" 

Upon  which  the  lady  brought  her  pocket  handker- 
chief from  her  face,  and  rose,  and  led  the  way  from  the 
room. 

The  house  through  which  the  doctor  followed  her 
was  full  of  pleasant  airs  and  pleasant  scents ;  through 
the  open  windows  of  the  staircase  he  caught  glimpses 
of  trees  in  blossom  (for  it  was  May),  and  the  sound  of 
the  city  came  to  the  ear  only  as  a  pleasing  hum,  for 
the  mansion  was  in  one  of  the  best  parts  of  London, 
and  roundabout  blew  the  breezes  of  the  open  park,  so 
that  in  a  moment,  as  by  enchantment,  he  who  entered 
here  was  set  apart  from  the  noise  and  the  disgrace  of 
the  streets. 

They  paused  at  the  door  of  a  chamber.  Here  the 
lady  turned  round  once  more,  and  once  more  wiped 
the  tear  of  sentiment  from  her  eye. 

"Dying,  doctor!"  said  she.  "The  most  beautiful 
woman  in  England,  and  one  of  the  richest.  The  world 
was  at  her  feet.  Indeed,  there  is  no  doubt  that,  had 
not  this  illness  intervened,  Lord  Heriot " 

"Madam,  shall  we  proceed?"  said  the  doctor,  with  a 
singular  look. 

And  the  lady  opened  the  door. 

He  found  himself  in  a  large  chamber  so  disposed  for 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  3 

luxury  that  the  senses  of  one  who  breakfasted,  dined, 
and  supped  on  misery  might  well  stagger  for  the 
moment.  A  wide  and  beautiful  window  showed  trees 
full  of  blossom  ;  opposite  the  window,  but  at  some  dis- 
tance back  in  the  room,  was  a  comfortable  couch,  upon 
which  the  patient  lay,  covered  with  a  pearl  colored  silk 
eiderdown.  By  the  side  of  the  couch  was  a  table  with 
flowers  and  fruit ;  a  nurse,  appropriately  dressed  in  the 
exquisite  garb  of  her  profession,  stood  near,  holding  a 
cup  of  fragrant  soup.  Another  nurse  flitted  in  the 
background  of  the  room,  where  the  doctor  rather  sur- 
mised than  saw  a  bed,  and  the  elegant  litter  of  a  lux- 
urious toilet.  The  prettinesses  of  the  chamber  alone, 
gathered  there  merely  to  please  the  eye  of  the  occu- 
pant, must,  the  doctor  reflected,  have  diverted  labor 
sufficient  to  have  produced  the  clothes  and  food  for  a 
whole  street  of  starving  people  for  a  year's  time. 

He  advanced  toward  the  couch  and  planted  himself 
somewhat  sturdily  before  it,  his  hands  again  in  his  coat 
pockets,  and  his  muddy  boots  a  little  apart,  and  he 
looked  down  at  the  face  and  figure  which  the  pearl-silk 
eiderdown  partially  concealed. 

The  lady  who  had  accompanied  him  stood  mean- 
while a  little  behind,  with  her  hands  folded  together 
and  her  head  inclined,  and  wearing  an  expression  of 
anxiety  which  was  rather  conventional  than  deep. 

Contrasts  are  apt  to  be  trying,  and,  by  the  side  of 
the  sturdy  doctor,  anything  tutored  and  compressed  in 
deference  to  fashion  fell  away  from  the  lines  of  hu- 
manity into  caricature.  And  one-half  of  this  lady's 
personality  had  been  purchased,  it  is  to  be  feared,  in 
shops;  Worth,  the  hairdresser,  perfumer,  and  dentist, 


4  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

were  responsible  for  her  more  striking  features,  while, 
though  God  may  have  been  the  shaper  of  her  bones  in 
the  first  instance,  they  had  suffered  from  the  corset- 
maker's  processes.  As  to  her  mind,  if  the  exterior 
were  any  index  to  it,  this,  with  the  smile  and  tear,  was 
probably  Society's  own  product. 

Such  was  the  woman  within  whose  hands  had  lain 
the  shaping  of  the  earlier  years  of  the  girl  who  reposed 
beneath  the  eiderdown  upon  the  couch  ;  she  it  was  who 
had  been  the  ruling  spirit,  the  educator,  and  influence. 

It  was  in  the  doctor's  mind  that  it  had  been  so,  as 
he  stood  gazing  at  the  unsolved  enigma  of  his  patient ; 
and  the  thought  threw  him  upon  a  reverie  so  deep  that 
he  forgot  either  to  move  or  speak;  and  presently  the 
lady  unclasped  her  hands  and  drew  up  her  head,  the 
attitude  of  appropriate  sorrow  being  prolonged  further 
than  endurance  could  bear.  At  the  same  moment  a 
nurse  set  a  cup  of  broth  down  on  a  table.  The  chink 
of  the  china  roused  the  doctor;  he  raised  his  head  and 
looked  round. 

"Remove  these  women,"  said  he. 

The  lady  signaled  with  her  hand,  and  the  attendants 
disappeared,  closing  the  door  behind  them  with  the 
caution  of  long  practice.  When  they  had  gone,  she 
found  herself  confronted  by  an  open-eyed  and  steady 
look.  This  unaccustomed  steadfastness  and  truth  in 
the  eye  confounded  her  like  an  accusation,  and  her 
nerves  shrank  and  her  spirits  took  a  panic,  and  all  the 
artifice  slipped  off  her  face,  as  the  color  will  wash  from 
the  cheek  of  a  doll. 

"I  must  request  you  also  to  leave  me  alone  with  my 
patient,"  said  the  doctor,  in  a  cool,  clear  whisper. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAtf.  5 

Whereupon  the  woman's  scared  senses  fled  straight 
away  to  the  book  of  etiquette  ;  it  was  her  rock  of  ages, 
and  she  clung  there  with  tenacity. 

"Impossible,  doctor!  Impossible!  I  could  not  do 
such  a  thing!  It  is  not  customary!"  she  returned  in 
emphatic  sibilants. 

A  ray  of  sardonic  humor  gleamed  in  the  man's  eye, 
and  alarmed  her  once  more  with  the  sense  of  the 
unusual. 

"Madam,"  said  he,  "you  tell  me  that  three  physi- 
cians have  tried  their  hands  on  this  case  and  failed. 
You  tell  me  that,  hearing  my  name  by  chance,  you 
proposed  to  call  me  in  to  assist.  And  your  physicians 
consented  to  permit  this  last  resource.  But  they  in- 
formed you  that  my  methods  were  unusual  and  unor- 
thodox, and  that  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  meet 
me  professionally,  or  to  take  the  responsibility  of  apply- 
ing them.  In  other  words,  in  spite  of  my  doctor's 
degree,  I  am  a  quack.  You  have,  madam,  sufficiently 
outraged  custom  by  calling  me  in  at  all,  and  a  trifle 
more  or  less  will  do  no  harm.  Custom,  you  will  under- 
stand, does  not  apply  to  quacks." 

He  began  to  walk  at  her  as  he  spoke,  with  his  head 
raised,  and  with  his  eyes  steady.  And  she  went  before 
him  as  though  a  wind  had  blown,  carrying  a  shaft  of 
fear  in  her  heart.  When  she  had  gone,  he  turned  the 
key  in  the  door. 

The  patient  had  not  so  much  as  lifted  an  eyelid. 

Dr.  Cornerstone  went  first  to  a  table  where  the  pre- 
scriptions and  medicine  bottles  stood,  and  where  pens 
and  ink  were  placed  in  readiness  for  himself.  He  read 
the  prescriptions  in  a  leisurely  manner,  and  then  took 


6    .  A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN. 

up  the  notes  of  the  nurses.  The  prescriptions  he 
swept  aside;  upon  the  notes  he  made  a  few  concise 
comments.  And  then  once  more  he  came  to  the  side 
of  the  couch  and  gazed  at  the  patient.  Then  he  drew 
a  chair  near  and  sat  down,  and  stretched  out  his  hand 
and  took  hers  into  it. 

She  lay  there  as  beautiful  and  still  as  a  marble 
statue.  Her  dark  hair  fell  upon  the  pillow  and  over 
the  edge  toward  the  carpet ;  her  dark  lashes  rested  on 
her  cheek;  her  features  were  small,  and  there  was  a 
dimple  near  her  mouth,  and  a  dent  in  her  chin;  her 
eyebrows  were  wide  and  beautiful  as  a  bird's  wing. 
She  was  called  Jessamine  Halliday.  One  wasted  hand 
lay  outside  on  the  quilt,  and  held  a  sprig  of  the  white 
jessamine  blossom  loosely.  Only  by  the  scarcely  visi- 
ble motion  of  the  lace  about  her  throat  and  breast 
could  one  have  told  that  she  lived.  The  doctor  kept 
her  hand  in  his  silently  for  a  few  minutes.  And  he 
looked  toward  the  garden,  where  the  wind  came  and 
went  softly  among  the  May  blossoms,  and  where  the 
bees  already  hummed. 

Then,  in  a  low  voice,  he  spoke : 

"The  Reaper  goes,"  said  he,  "over  the  Great  City. 
His  wings  are  Famine  and  Overwork,  but  his  eyes  are 
merciful.  He  stands  now  upon  the  threshold  of  a 
room ;  none  who  are  in  the  room  see  him  or  think  of 
him ;  he  is  their  deliverer,  the  only  one  they  have,  or 
can  have,  but  their  whole  life  is  spent  in  keeping  him 
at  bay.  They  think  only  how  they  shall  manage  to 
live — to  exist.  They  think  of  that,  though  there  is 
nothing  in  life  which  they  can  hope  for  to  make  it 
pleasant  and  worth  living.  They  ask  for  nothing  but 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  7 

to  work  hard — hard — and  to  gather  a  few  pence  at  the 
end.  The  fear  that  the  hard  work  will  fail  them  is  the 
haunting  fear  of  their  lives.  The  room  is  a  low  attic, 
with  a  slanting  roof  and  a  small  window.  The  window 
is  open,  but  just  outside  is  a  wall  with  other  small  win- 
dows ;  the  one  opposite  has  a  broken  pane  stuffed  with 
rags.  There  is  a  stifling  smell  in  the  room,  for  it  is 
filled  with  people  at  work.  Under  the  window  are  two 
men  cutting  pieces  of  fur  into  shape  on  a  wooden 
table ;  across  the  fireplace  is  a  board  on  trestles,  and 
here  a  lad  nails  the  fur  and  stretches  it.  In  another 
corner  is  an  old  wooden  bedstead,  worm-eaten,  moth- 
destroyed,  and  revolting ;  here  a  sick  woman  sits,  and 
her  shaking  fingers  hold  some  strips  of  the  fur.  She 
never  raises  her  head ;  she  sews  and  sews,  and  looks  at 
the  work;  when  she  coughs  badly  she  has  to  wait  for 
a  minute,  but  her  trembling  fingers  set  to  the  work 
again  feverishly.  At  the  other  end  of  the  room  are 
two  other  women  sewing  as  she  does.  They  are  all 
three  elderly,  and  all  three  are  leaden-eyed  and  pale 
and  exhausted.  They  are  working  now  as  they  have 
worked  all  their  lives ;  the  sick  woman  on  the  bed  has 
two  children  to  keep.  Her  husband  died  five  months 
ago ;  but  for  two  years  before  his  death  he  was  ill  and 
could  not  work.  She  kept  him,  too.  She  is  thinking 
now  of  the  two  little  ones  locked  in  the  garret  in  the 
opposite  court,  and  waiting  for  her  to  come  back  to 
feed  them.  All  her  life  she  has  worked  as  she  works 
now,  but  she  has  never  made  for  herself  or  for  them 
one  wholesome  set  of  clothes,  nor  cooked  one  satisfy- 
ing meal.  And  now  there  are  sores  upon  her  face,  her 
hair  has  been  cut  away  in  patches,  her  eyes  are  half 


8  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

blind,  and  her  cheeks  are  sunken,  so  that  the  bones 
threaten  to  pierce  them,  and  her  skin  burns  with  fever. 
Once  she  looks  up,  and  in  her  eyes  is  a  horrible  fear; 
something  frightens  her.  The  women  at  the  other  end 
of  the  room  have  been  talking  loudly  and  complain- 
ingly,  and  the  man  at  the  table  is  answering  them 
angrily.  'You  can  do  it  or  not,  as  you  like,'  he  says  in 
a  rough  voice;  'is  it  my  fault,  I  asks?  What  does  the 
governor  say  to  me?  He  says  I  may  take  the  furs  at 
two  and  six  a  dozen  less,  or  I  may  leave  them  alone. 
He  says  he  knows  a  chap  that  will  do  them  lower  than 
that.  "It's  nothing  to  me,"  he  says,  "who  does  them, 
or  who  doesn't.  I'm  not  going  to  waste  my  time  talk- 
ing," he  says.  And  if  he  knocks  off  my  pay,  where 
am  I?  Is  it  my  fault  that  I  take  a  penny  here  or  a 
penny  there  off  yours?  How  am  I  to  live,  I  want  to 
know?  There  are  plenty  of  women  waiting  to  take 
your  places,  and  you  know  that  as  well  as  I  do.'  He 
swears  as  he  talks,  and  the  women  are  silent  after  a 
time.  She  on  the  bed  has  never  spoken.  Her  eyes 
sink  back  to  her  work,  and  her  cheek  has  gone  deadly 
pale.  She  lays  her  hand  on  her  breast  for  a  moment. 
The  baby  at  home  is  but  six  months  old,  and  how  is 
it  to  be  fed? 

"Night  comes.  At  last  the  lights  are  put  out  in  the 
workroom,  and  the  woman  can  go  home.  She  creeps 
upstairs  to  the  garret  in  the  opposite  court,  full  of  sick 
fear  and  misery.  She  is  always  frightened  when  she 
leaves  them  so  long  alone.  To-night,  when  she  opens 
the  door,  she  finds  the  eldest  child  wailing  on  the  floor, 
and  the  baby  lying  in  the  cradle,  white  and  weak,  with 
scarcely  a  breath  passing  between  its  lips.  And  the 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  9 

fear  comes  into  the  mother's  face  again,  and  she  feels 
at  her  breast,  and  cries  to  one  who  has  come  up  the 
stairs  behind  her:  'Doctor!  doctor!  for  the  Lord's 
love  give  me  a  drink  of  broth!  For  the  child's  sake, 
doctor!' 

"But  the  Reaper,  unseen  and  merciful,  followed  her 
from  the  workroom ;  he  stands  now  beside  her  in  the 
garret,  and  his  eyes  are  merciful  and  tender;  he  lays 
his  hand  upon  mother  and  child.  He  does  it  now — 
for  this  is  no  dream — he  steps  nearer.  He  gathers 
these  two,  and  lays  them  to  rest  in  his  bosom." 

The  doctor's  voice  ceased.  And  when  it  had  stopped, 
the  wind  was  heard  whispering  through  the  trees. 
And  he  still  held  one  of  the  white  hands  of  Jessamine 
in  his  own ;  the  other  hand  had  let  fall  the  blossom. 

"The  Reaper  goes  over  the  Great  City,"  spoke  the 
doctor  once  more;  "and  his  wings  are  Idleness  and 
Riches,  but  his  eyes  are  flames  of  wrath.  And  he 
stands  upon  the  threshold  of  the  room,  and  he  cries: 
'How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long?'  And  a  Voice  goes  out 
like  the  whispering  of  wind  in  the  blossoms  of  the 
trees.  And  the  Voice  says:  'Lay  not  thine  hand  to 
the  root,  but  give  time  for  repentance,  and  bid  the  sick 
arise,  and  work,  and  suffer!'  ' 

The  doctor  stopped  and  turned  from  the  window, 
and  the  girl's  eyes  were  wide  open  and  were  fixed  upon 
his ;  and  then  he  lifted  her  with  his  arm,  and  while  she 
lay  back  against  his  shoulder  he  fed  her  slowly  in  small 
sips  with  the  strong  and  fragrant  soup. 

"Is  the  woman  dead?"  whispered  the  patient. 

"Yes,v  said  the  doctor. 


CHAPTER  II. 

JUST  one  year  and  one  month  passed,  and  upon  a 
mild  June  evening  Dr.  Cornerstone  sat  talking  with  a 
friend  in  his  study.  The  windows  were  thrown  open 
and  the  blinds  were  not  drawn.  When  for  a  time  the 
square  was  silent,  and  no  one  passed  up  it  with  the 
shriek  or  the  whoop  by  which  born  Londoners  try  to 
assure  themselves  of  mirth  at  the  heart,  a  rustle  of 
trees  was  heard ;  and  from  the  window  (for  the  room 
was  on  the  first  story)  were  to  be  seen  interlaced 
branches  and  leaves,  with  the  gaslight  of  the  square 
very  prettily  shining  upon  them.  In  the  daytime  the 
trees  looked  black  and  dry,  and  exhausted  the  spirit 
rather  than  refreshed  it ;  but  at  night  they  put  on 
something  of  their  pristine  character. 

Besides  the  trees,  high  between  the  chimneys  of  the 
great  hospital  opposite,  one  saw  a  star  or  two. 

Around  the  square,  which  was  in  comparison  a  well 
of  silence,  the  roar  of  the  city  went  like  some  evil  and 
despairing  beast. 

Dr.  Cornerstone  sat  on  an  armchair,  \vith  his  feet 
stretched  out.  Business  was  not  quite  as  brisk  with 
him  as  usual;  in  June  the  people  were  neither  choked 
with  poisonous  heat  nor  nipped  to  the  heart  with  cold  ; 
in  June  Dr.  Cornerstone  had  a  less  grim  look  than  ordi- 
nary. He  appeared  quite  sweet-tempered  now  as  he 
enjoyed  this  unusual  leisure  with  a  friend  by  his  side. 


A   SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAK  II 

From  upstairs  sometimes — at  those  moments  when 
no  beat  of  human  feet  passed  up  the  square — one  heard 
the  measured  creak  of  a  rocking  chair,  and  the  sound 
of  a  sweet  voice  singing  an  old  song: 

Go  from  the  windo\v»  love,  go, 

Go  from  the  window,  my  dear  ; 
The  wind  and  the  rain  will  not  drive  you  back  again  ; 

You  may  not  be  lodged  here. 

That  was  Dr.  Cornerstone's  wife  rocking  her  baby. 

Opposite  to  the  doctor,  on  another  easy-chair,  sat  an 
old  friend  named  Carteret.  He  was  a  small  man,  and 
he  did  not  stretch  himself  out,  but  crumpled  his  body 
up  and  hugged  it  with  his  crossed  arms;  and  he  thrust 
forward  his  thin,  eager  face,  and  fixed  his  eyes  steadily 
on  one  spot  in  the  carpet,  as  though  a  hand  wrote 
something  there  for  him  to  read. 

"And  so  she  did  not  die,  after  all?"  Carteret  was 
saying. 

"Die?     Oh,  dear  me,  no!     Certainly  not." 

"Have  you  a  name  for  her  illness?" 

"I  call  it  a  splenetic  seizure  brought  on  by  ennui  and 
excessive  high  breeding." 

"No  disease?" 

"None.  A  mere  fantasy,  a  pose.  Her  imagination 
had  been  touched  by  the  picturesque  interest  of  mortal 
decay  upon  aesthetic  furniture." 

"Faugh !  What  medicine  can  purge  such  sickli- 
ness?" 

"One  only.  I  administered  the  pill  which  they  call 
Reality — in  silver  wrapping,  it  may  be." 

Carteret  grimaced  at  the  carpet. 

"A  few  visits  unfolded  her  nature  to  me — if,  indeed, 


12  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

it  be  nature.  I  never  saw  a  creature  so  fatally  femi- 
nine. She  was  just  a  pretty  piece  of  sexuality.  She 
never  thought  of  herself  save  as  a  dainty  bit  of  flesh 
which  some  great  man  would  buy." 

"Hum!     A  professional — 

"Beauty"  interposed  Cornerstone;  "and  with  a  high 
price  for  which  she  would  stand  out.  Poor  wretch ! 
She — they  are  what  Society  makes  them." 

"And  they  take  to  it  kindly!" 

"Some  do.  As  to  her,  I  do  not  know  that.  Some- 
thing tormented  her.  She  had  tried  every  conceivable 
contortion  by  which  to  kill  time.  She  was  clever;  I 
never  met  with  a  more  able  nor  a  more  restless  little 
mind.  One  year  she  had  been  artistic,  another  learned, 
a  third  aesthetic,  a  fourth  political,  and  so  on.  She  was 
fond  of  horses,  it  appears,  but  not  with  constancy. 
She  told  me  that  in  the  autumn  she  would  sometimes 
shoot  and  fish  like  a  man.  But,  in  spite  of  all,  the 
days  gaped  at  her  blank  and  empty." 

"Mortally  sick  of  herself  and  her  amusements,  in 
short." 

"And  so  her  final  resource  was  death.  I  never  saw 
so  highly  self-conscious  a  creature,  nor  one  so  intuitively 
aware  how  the  graces  of  a  lifelong  demeanor  may  be 
rounded  off  at  last  by  a  poetic  exit  from  the  stage.  I 
fancy  the  purveyors  to  fashionable  drawing  rooms 
must  have  entreated  her  presence  from  motives  similar 
to  those  which  prompt  them  to  seek  out  exotics  for 
the  decoration  of  the  table.  Her  own  personality 
appears  to  have  been  her  single  sustained  and  success- 
ful study.  But  she  had  a  will!  And  had  she  not 
puzzled  the  doctors!  When  I  found  her  she  was  cer- 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  13 

tainly  in  danger — floating  gracefully  down  the  stream 
of  life  to  the  dark  river  at  the  end." 

"And  you  plucked  at  her  skirts  with  a  rough  hand, 
and  saved  her?" 

"I  did  so." 

"And  when  you  had  set  her  up  on  her  legs  again — 
if  one  may  surmise  legs  in  so  superlative  a  creature — 
how  did  it  work?" 

"My  pill,  you  mean?" 

"Yes;  your  pill— Reality." 

''Like  madness  in  the  brain.'  She  got  well  and 
plunged  into  new  fevers  of  restlessness.  To  infuse 
reality  with  sober  effects  one  needs  a  prepared  system. 
She  got  a  sufficient  hold  of  my  notions  to  run  new 
crazes  with  them.  She  read  Thoreau  and  Browning's 
'Waring,'  and  caricatured  the  ideas  in  her  self-conscious 
mode.  By  August  she  was  dressed  in  unbleached  calico 
and  prints  at  twopence  a  yard  ;  in  the  early  winter  she 
was  running  over  the  East  End  with  a  train  of  lovers ; 
at  the  turn  of  the  year  I  heard  of  her  lecturing  on  a  pub- 
lic platform,  the  audience  chiefly  composed  of  men." 

Carteret  shrugged  up  his  shoulders  and  stretched 
one  lean  hand  out  toward  the  spot  in  the  carpet,  with 
a  derisive  grimace. 

"If,"  said  he,  "I  were  a  doctor — and  it  is  perhaps  a 
providential  dispensation  that  I  am  not — I  should, 
Cornerstone,  use  some  discrimination  in  my  art  of 
healing." 

"I  agree  with  you  theoretically." 

"I  might,  for  instance,"  continued  Carteret,  "have 
thought  it  scarcely  worth  while  to  bring  this  pretty 
humbug  back  to  life." 


14  A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN. 

"But,"  said  the  doctor,  "a  pound  or  two  of  healthy 
human  flesh  is  more  valuable  in  the  eyes  of  our  profes- 
sion than  gold  of  Ophir,  and  as  rare." 

"And  she — this  artificial  minx — is  sound?" 

1  'To  the  core,  Carteret.  Besides" — the  doctor  paused 
and  sighed — "she  is  a  woman." 

"And  therefore  destined  to  be  'a  breeder  of  sinners.'  " 

Dr.  Cornerstone  stretched  himself  out  further,  folded 
his  hands,  leaned  his  head  on  the  back  of  his  chair,  and 
contemplated  the  movements  of  a  moth  about  the 
ceiling. 

"Being  a  woman,"  said  he,  "I  both  pitied  and  had 
hopes  of  her." 

"You  were  always  an  optimist." 

"An  optimist?  No.  Try  a  day's  doctoring  among 
the  people,  and  ask  yourself  if  such  a  thing  be  possible. 
But  a  man  whose  bitter  repast  is  mitigated  by  a  season- 
ing of  hope — yes." 

"And  how  did  you  manage  to  fish  up  that  bright 
colored  thing  from  the  rag-bag  of  this  life?" 

"One  day  I  sat  thinking,  and  I  got  an  idea.  Carte- 
ret,  did  you  ever  get  an  idea?" 

"I?     Never." 

The  doctor  smiled  at  the  moth.  Carteret  looked  up 
at  him  with  expectation.  He  was  a  man  whose  pleas- 
ures lay  almost  exclusively  on  the  mental  side,  and  his 
face  was  worn  with  the  partly  conscious  martyrdom  of 
deprivation.  In  thought,  in  conversation,  he  was  the 
peer  of  his  fellows,  but  not  elsewhere.  An  insistence 
upon  the  wholeness  of  human  nature,  the  identity  of 
body  and  soul,  an  exhortation  from  the  pagan  school 
to  partake  of  life's  feast  freely,  genially,  and  without 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  15 

fear,  must  be  irony  to  some  men,  and  but  bitter  advice 
to  innumerable  women. 

"The  truth  is,"  said  the  doctor,  "we  look  at  things 
with  a  too-limited  eye,  and  are  constitutionally 
invalided.  We  are  not  robust  enough  to  bear  to 
accept  the  processes  of  Nature,  and  we  distrust  some 
of  our  own  best  faculties." 

"  By  the  last  you  mean,  I  presume,  that  offense 
against  priesthood,  mind-energy — that  which  bids  us 
to  dare,  do,  will,  and  think,  and,  one  may  add,  to  pull 
down  the  house  about  our  ears  by  way  of  letting  in 
the  skies  ?  " 

"  Surely  energy  manifests  itself  in  reserve,  self-con- 
trol, masterly  silence,  and  patience,  as  well  as  in  the 
more  obvious  activity  ?  But  you  are  right — it  was  this 
mind-energy  I  alluded  to.  And  I  note  that  the  quality 
is  not  so  much  found  alarming  in  a  man's  own  mind  as 
in  that  of  his  neighbor — the  other  man." 

"Or  the  other  woman?" 

"  Of  her  chief  and  foremost,"  cried  the  doctor,  "  whom 
we  are  so  slow  to  recognize  as  our  neighbor.  Well,  the 
idea  that  came  to  me  was  simply  a  sudden  flashing 
appreciation  of  mind-energy  as  the  one  thing  to  be 
trusted  in,  cherished,  and  cultivated  above  all  other 
qualities,  and  in  all  persons,  without  distinction  of  sex. 
It  was  an  inspiration  of  faith  in  what  we  have  within 
ourselves  of  the  best.  It  was  a  revolt  against  invalidish 
prudence,  and  an  invitation  toward  robust  daring  any- 
where and  everywhere.  Even  so  far  as  to  say  that  we 
ought  not  so  much  to  name  mistaken  results  disaster, 
as  the  common  practice  of  servile  imitation  and  faint- 
hearted acquiescence," 


1 6  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"The  cost  being  not  counted  too  great,  so  that 
genuinely  new  ideas  are  opened  out  to  a  failing 
world?" 

"Precisely." 

"Well,  all  I  can  say  is  that  to  a  dead  certainty  the 
mere  suggestion  of  such  a  thing  will  set  all  our  hens, 
male  and  female,  cackling." 

"Yet  I  found  this  sudden  premonition  of  trust- 
worthiness in  mind-energy  extraordinarily  refreshing. 
It  was  as  though  I  had  lifted  up  windows  in  the  soul 
and  seen  new  horizons." 

"It  is  all  very  well,"  said  Carteret;  "but  plenty  of 
people  will  tell  you  that  you  can't  trust  a  child  with 
fire  nor  Phaeton  with  the  chariot  of  the  sun." 

"Oh,  undoubtedly,  there  might  be  some  ferment  and 
a  little  danger  at  first.  But  the  education  would  be 
gradual.  And  in  my  opinion  fewer  houses  would  be 
burned  down,  and  there  would  be  fewer  unpleasant 
accidents  with  the  fiery  elements,  if  people  were  guided 
by  explanations,  instead  of  being  handed  mechanical 
rules." 

"Possibly,"  said  Carteret. 

"Moreover,  life  has  an  odd  habit  of  calling  unwilling 
Phaetons  to  drive  ghostly  chariots  along  perilous  ways, 
without  any  preparation.  I  propose  simply  an  assidu- 
ous cultivation  of  the  mind,  so  that  the  man  may  be 
prepared  to  rise  to  sudden  emergencies — the  man"- 
here  the  doctor  paused  and  sighed — "and  also  the 
woman." 

"Ah  !  now  we  return  to  our  Jessamine  !" 

Carteret  settled  himself  in  his  chair  like  a  child 
expecting  a  story.  While  the  doctor  collected  his 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  I? 

thoughts,  a  belated  organ  grinder  at  the  end  of  the 
square  turned  on  his  instrument,  played  a  few  bars 
spasmodically,  and  left  off  with  the  dominant  seventh 
unresolved. 

"Yes,  here  we  return  to  her,"  said  he  at  last.  "Life 
does  not  exempt  these  untrained  travelers  from  the 
usual  problems.  'Your  right  decision  or  your  life!" 
cries  that  constant  and  remorseless  old  highwayman 
to  every  soul,  male  or  female  alike,  and  he  will  take  no 
excuses,  nor  admit  palliations.  Yet  the  education  of 
our  Jessamines  is  into  the  suppression  and  rarely  into 
the  exercise  of  mind-energy ;  it  is  a  prolonged  process 
of  curtailment  and  stunting  of  the  faculties  on  which 
right  choice  and  firm,  vitalizing  decisions  depend. 
This  leaves  the  nature  pliant  to  the  cultivation  of  cer- 
tain characteristics,  which,  being  exaggerated,  leave 
them  particularly  open  to  sudden  dilemmas." 

"The  unfortunate  creature!  She  has  never  been 
taught  even  to  shoot  at  a  mark  or  to  do  anything  with 
a  trigger  save  scream  at  it." 

"Just  so." 

"It  is  our  infernal  selfishness — women  crammed 
inside  the  coach  out  of  the  way  of  the  view,  while  man 
bosses  it  on  the  box  seat  and  breathes  the  air." 

"It  is  precisely  this  contact  with  the  fresh  air,  this 
command  of  the  wide  view,  which  I  claim  for  all,  but 
demand  particularly  for  women  as  a  necessary  con- 
dition of  their  wholesome  development.  You  perceive, 
Carteret,  what  a  flat  catalogue  of  conventional  virtues 
we  impose  upon  women,  assuming  them  to  be  the 
characteristics  of  the  whole  sex.  Now,  I  am  by  no 
means  certain  that  the  catalogue  does  not  include 


1 8  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

some  very  deplorable  elements,  which  result  in  un- 
mitigated harm  both  racially  and  socially.  At  any 
rate,  in  varied  individualities  there  must  be  difference 
all  through,  yet  one  type  of  character  is  handed  to 
all,  with  the  advice  'Please  copy.'  But  no  virtue  is 
effective  that  is  not  living  and  spontaneous.  And  how 
can  a  set  of  fictitious  rules  give  these  women  any  guid- 
ance in  self-management?" 

"You  see,"  said  Carteret,  "it  was  a  man  who  bore 
the  sins  of  the  world.  The  woman  has  the  far  more 
onerous  office  of  going  into  the  wilderness  as  a  scape- 
goat, bearing  its  virtues." 

"Just  so,"  said  Cornerstone. 

"I  have  always  held,"  continued  Carteret  dryly, 
"that  our  great  national  improvidence  lies  in  the  two 
departments  of  our  refuse  and  our  women.  The  dis- 
tinctions of  sex,  where  they  are  arbitrary,  are  in  them- 
selves a  waste.  Why  squander  individuality  in  rules? 
The  manner  of  a  woman's  thoughts,  deeds,  and  words 
is  prescribed,  as  you  say,  beforehand  by  society ;  her 
very  love  must  be  according  to  platitudes  and  the 
code.  It  must  be  a  beautiful  fidelity,  affection,  senti- 
ment, but  not  a  passion  like  a  man's.  But  supposing 
a  woman  fall  into  something  indecorously  natural?" 

"Well,  then  comes  the  rub,  for  which  their  education 
has  not  prepared  them.  All  coercion  and  restriction, 
from  outside  instead  of  from  within,  is  merely  painful 
without  fruitful  result.  When  I  first  saw  Jessamine,  I 
was  considering  this  very  point.  I  went  one  day  to 
the  Park,  at  the  fashionable  hour,  to  watch  the  faces." 

"Hum!" 

"After  ten  minutes  I  knew  I  had  got  fast  among  a 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  19 

circle  of  the  damned.  I  saw  that  the  place  was  a 
wheel  round  which,  in  slow  immortal  weariness,  souls 
damned  for  idleness  were  being  drawn." 

"  L'ennui  fruit  de  la  morue  incuriosite, 
Prend  les  proportions  de  I'immortalite," 

murmured  Carteret. 

"It  was  a  bad  sort  of  sight.  I  found  only  the  very 
young  girls  at  all  tolerable.  Youth  in  itself  is  a 
triumph  and  a  hope.  But  even  there  the  indefinable 
tracing  of  pain  and  coercion  had  begun ;  not  one,  even 
of  the  girls,  carried  her  fetters  unconsciously.  The 
iron  entered  into  their  souls.  I  fancied  they  leaned 
back  in  their  carriages  with  closed  lips  in  despair!" 

"Lord,  how  you  exaggerate!"   exclaimed  Carteret. 

"I  think  not,"  replied  the  doctor;  "not  when  you 
make  allowances  for  exceptions.  I've  nothing  to  say, 
for  instance,  of  the  emancipated  woman  of  the  well-to- 
do  middle  class,  beyond  a  friendly  grip  of  the  hand 
such  as  one  bestows  on  an  equal.  Neither  have  I  to 
do  just  now  with  the  multitude  of  women  toilers  of 
the  masses.  And  I  will  leave  out  of  the  question  also 
the  recognized  prostitute.  I  am  occupied  simply  with 
the  unemancipated  daughter  of  the  aristocracy,  the 
plutocracy,  and  the  upper  and  lower  middle  classes." 

"With  the  idle  lady — 'the  superfluous  female,'  in 
short?" 

"Just  so.  No;  I  do  not  exaggerate.  I  assure  you, 
Carteret,  that  in  all  the  hours  I  stood  there  watching, 
I  never  saw  one  man  and  woman  speak  to  each  other 
with  the  free  and  independent  dignity  of  equals  con- 
scious of  obligations  to  the  world  they  live  in.  It  was 


20  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

all  sexuality  on  the  one  side,  with  its  correlative  sen- 
suality on  the  other.  Whereupon  a  furious  and  blind- 
ing rage  fell  upon  me ;  I  stood  as  a  stone  in  my  place, 
wishing  that  I  had  the  whip  of  small  cords  with  which 
the  Lord  drove  the  swine  down  the  hill  into  destruc- 
tion." 

"Your  theology,  Cornerstone,  is  somewhat  mixed, 
but  is  always  efficient." 

"And  while  I  stood  thus  stupefied,  an  open  victoria 
drew  up  by  the  rails  close  beside  me.  I  think  the 
princess  was  passing.  There  were  two  women  in  the 
carriage — one  quite  elderly,  the  other  a  girl  in  her 
teens.  The  heart  of  the  old  one  had  perished ;  she 
did  not  suffer,  because  mortification  had  set  in ;  but, 
then,  she  was  no  longer  human.  The  other  was,  as  I 
say,  young;  I  thought  at  first  she  did  not  suffer  either. 
She  leaned  back  and  did  not  lift  her  eyes.  Her  face 
was  soft  and  quiet  and  beautiful 

"Ah,  Miss  Halliday!" 

"That  was  the  first  time  I  saw  her.  Carteret,  there 
are  faces  which  issue  from  Nature's  hand  as  from  a 
dream.  It  is  as  though  she  sat  musing  upon  an  idea 
as  an  artist  might  do,  picking  up  a  trait  here  and 
a  feature  there,  until  it  is  made  perfect,  and  then  she 
sends  it  out  into  a  thankless  world.  What  shall  we  do 
with  our  beautiful  women?  It  was  a  little  face — not 
one  of  those  big,  bouncing,  full-blown  roses;  but  soft 
and  rare,  small  and  exquisite.  And,  then,  she  had  an 
air  which  turned  the  whole  place  info  a  picture.  Her 
name  is  Jessamine,  and  Jessamine  describes  her;  and 
she  held  a  spray  of  the  flower  in  her  hand.  They  say  she 
always  has  leaf  or  blossom  by  her.  Well,  as  I  gazed,  I 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  21 

became  suddenly  aware  that  I  impeded  the  desire  of 
some  other  person  to  get  near  her,  and  a  voice  spoke 
over  my  shoulder.  Ugh !  that  voice !  A  thread  of 
vice  ran  through  it  like  the  twang  of  a  broken  wire — 
a  thin  trickle  of  disease  dropped  out  with  every 
syllable " 

"But  what  did  the  fellow  say?" 

"Oh,  ah!  Nothing!  nothing!  'How  do  you  do, 
Miss  Halliday?  So  fortunate  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
you!  You  enjoyed  last  night?  So  glad.  Going  to- 
night to  Lady  S.'s?  So  glad!  Shall  I  be  there?  Can 
you  ask?  Reserve  me  a  waltz.  No,  no!  a  waltz'  " 

The  doctor  rose  up  from  his  seat  and  took  two  or 
three  turns  along  the  room ;  then  he  paused  opposite 

Carteret's  chair. 

• 

"I  say  the  face  had  an  ineffable  quality,"  he  said. 
"A  violet  before  now  has  plucked  at  my  heart.  In 
flowers  there  are  'thoughts  too  deep  for  tears.'  A 
beautiful  face  with  that  indescribable  something  in  it — 
that  poetic  suggestion — will  stir  my  soul  as  a  passage 
of  music  might ;  it  will  lift  up  my  thought  for  a  week. 
But  before  my  mind  had  pictured  the  Paradise  about 
this  modern  Eve,  I  saw  already  the  snake  lurking  in 
the  grass — fatal,  horrible." 

The  doctor  reseated  himself. 

"I  turned  away;  but  as  I  turned  I  heard  someone 
answering  for  the  young  girl.  The  voice  said,  'Dear 
Lord  Heriot,  we  receive  a  few  favored  friends  at  five 
this  evening  for  tea.  Come  round  and  settle  about  the 
dance  with  dearest  Jessamine.'  I  turned  again — why, 
I  cannot  say.  Lord  Heriot  was  occupied  with  that 
old  Jezebel ;  the  girl  had  moved  her  pretty  head,  and 


22  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

was  looking  at  me.  It  was  the  strangest  moment.  I 
don't  think  she  saw  me  really,  but  she  let  me  read  in 
her  face  like  a  book.  There  was  complacent  vanity 
there  in  large  measure  (they  say  Heriot  is  the  greatest 
catch  in  Europe,  so  heavily  does  our  beautiful  civiliza- 
tion handicap  the  strong  against  the  weak  and  diseased), 
but,  struggling  through  this  miasmic  cloud,  I  saw  a  look 
in  her  eyes.  These  cried  to  me  plainer  than  words: 
'Rescue  me!  Rescue  me!'" 

Dr.  Cornerstone  paused.  A  thin  noise  of  rain  fell 
among  the  trees  in  the  square,  and  the  step  of  a  man 
in  haste  went  by. 

"When  they  called  me  to  her  bedside  I  was  not 
astonished,"  said  the  doctor  presently,  in  a  low  voice; 
"it  could  not  surprise  me  that  she  had  chosen  to  die." 

"Ah!" 

"Her  eyes — it  was  three  years  or  so  after  the  scene 
in  the  Park  that  they  called  me  in — kept  always  that 
look.  They  are  astonishingly  deep  and  somber.  They 
cast  a  mystery  over  the  face.  I  have  had  the  convic- 
tion sometimes  when  she  turned  them  toward  me,  with 
their  inscrutable  pathos,  that  it  is  humanity  itself  which 
cries  to  one  through  eyes  like  that — the  sufferings  of 
generations  having  been  concentrated  into  one  pair  of 
orbs ;  they  look  at  you  with  the  pent-up  grief  of  a 
race." 

"Or  is  it  prevision  of  her  own?" 

Dr.  Cornerstone  made  no  reply.  He  rose  once  more 
from  his  chair,  and  began  once  more  to  perambulate 
slowly  up  and  down  the  chamber. 

Meanwhile  Carteret  got  his  hand  into  his  coat- 
pocket,  and  began  to  fumble  in  it  with  a  slow,  hesitat- 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  2$ 

ing  air.  At  length  he  drew  out  a  copy  of  an  evening 
paper. 

"Have  you  heard  the  news?"  said  he. 

"What  news?  Is  there  anything  new  under  the 
sun?" 

"This  paragraph,  for  instance?" 

"What  about?" 

"It  is  headed It  appears  to  be  about  Miss 

Halliday." 

The  doctor  stopped  in  his  walk,  and  his  brow  con- 
tracted uneasily. 

"Ah!     She  has  married  Lord  Heriot!" 

"No,"  returned  Carteret ;  "no,  not  that.  The  para- 
graph is  headed,  'Mysterious  Disappearance  of  Miss 
Jessamine  Halliday.' ' 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  morning  after  the  doctor's  talk  with  Carteret,  a 
servant  entered  his  consulting  room  and  handed  him  a 
letter.  It  had  no  postmark,  and  had  been  pushed  into 
the  letter  box  by  some  person  unknown.  Nor  was 
anyone  aware  at  what  hour,  for  the  deliverer  had 
neither  rung  nor  knocked.  The  doctor  took  it  with- 
out curiosity,  supposing  it  to  be  one  of  the  constantly 
received  demands  for  help  in  illness  or  poverty.  But 
a  certain  prosperous  air  about  the  envelope,  a  sugges- 
tion of  luxury  in  the  thick  creamy  paper,  above  all, 
the  firm,  characteristic  handwriting  so  expressive  of 
culture,  caught  his  attention.  He  opened  the  letter  at 
once,  and  found  it  to  be  one  of  several  sheets  in  an 
unknown  hand ;  then  he  glanced  at  the  signature  and 
read  to  his  infinite  surprise  the  name: 

JESSAMINE   HALLIDAY. 

After  which  Dr.  Cornerstone  sat  down  and  immedi- 
ately perused  the  contents.  They  were  as  follows: 

"DEAR  DR.  CORNERSTONE: 

"Before  you  receive  this  letter,  you  will  have  heard 
the  news.  And  the  news  is  that  I  have  disappeared. 
As  a  rule,  when  one  reads  of  'mysterious  disappear- 
ances' in  the  papers,  it  really  means  that  the  people 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  25 

appear  for  the  first  time.  They  come  to  the  surface 
labeled  'Disappeared,'  and  then  you  hear  of  their 
existence.  One  was  not  aware  of  it  before,  and  one 
certainly  would  not  have  missed  them. 

"But  everybody  has  heard  of  'Jessamine  Halliday,' 
and  if,  like  Helen  of  Troy,  she  take  it  into  her  head  to 
disappear,  it  will  be  a  true  sensation.  One  owes  it  to 
Society  to  create  an  excitement  sometimes.  All  the 
Society  papers  will  have  a  leading  article,  and  people 
will  rush  to  buy ;  the  photographers  will  make  a  for- 
tune of  my  picture,  and  all  the  men  at  all  the  clubs  will 
say  'By  Jove !'  Even  royalty  will  deign  to  raise  a  per- 
turbed eyebrow. 

"But  not  a  creature  of  them  all  will  know  where  I 
am,  and  not  a  creature  of  them  all  will  really  care  two- 
pence. 

"But  you,  Dr.  Cornerstone,  savage  Mentor,  you  are 
not  'in  Society,'  and  perhaps  you  will  care  the  least 
little  bit  in  the  world ;  somehow  or  another  I  have 
not  the  heart  to  drop  quite  out  of  sight  without 
nodding  'adieu,'  and  whispering  in  your  ear  that  'all  is 
well.' 

"Besides,  in  some  sense,  you  are  at  the  bottom  of 
this  freak  of  mine,  and  ought  to  share  a  little  of  the 
responsibility.  Did  you  not  take  a  great  deal  on  your 
shoulders  when  you  called  me  back  to  life?  The  world 
might  have  been  saved  much  mischief,  and  I  some 
hurt,  if  you  had  let  me  slide  away.  Sometimes — do 
other  people  feel  it? — when  I  am  most  gay  and  tri- 
umphant, and  most  admired  and  most  charming  (and, 
dear  doctor,  am  I  not  a  charmer?),  something  stretches 
out  toward  me  from  an  immeasurable  distance;  it 


26  A    SUPERFLUOUS 

comes  swift  and  straight  from  a  far,  far  place  where  it 
waits  for  me,  and  it  touches  me  on  the  heart  and  on 
the  brow,  so  that  I  grow  still  and  afraid.  It  seems  to 
me  as  though  a  future  unknown  friend  or  foe  steps  up 
to  this  little  soul  Jessamine  (who  is  not  in  the  least 
like  Helen  of  Troy — scratch  that  out,  dear  doctor!) 
to  make  a  terrible  claim  upon  her. 

"What  am  I — what  are  we,  doctor — we  little  women, 
I  mean?  You  have  answered  many  questions,  but 
never  that.  The  ancients  said  we  had  no  souls;  and 
perhaps  they  were  right.  The  moderns  say  we  care 
for  nothing  but  an  armchair,  and  a  good  fire,  and  a  cup 
of  tea,  and  a  novel,  and  to  have  some  man  slaving  for 
us;  or  else  they  gird  at  us  for  our  tiresome  desire  to 
be  'emancipated,'  which  some  call  immodest.  I  think 
there  must  be  truth  in  all  this,  because  the  moderns 
have  got  all  the  light.  People  tell  us  so  many  things 
with  such  an  air,  and  they  write  them  down  in  print,  so 
that  it  is  no  wonder  we  come  to  believe  them,  and  to 
act  upon  them — if  we  don't  happen  to  have  any  extra 
force  of  mind,  that  is. 

"And  then  people  who  rise  to  poetry  say  we  would 
sell  our  best  friend  for  a  diamond,  and  they  give  his- 
toric instances,  which  seem  to  prove  everything  (though 
sometimes  afterward  I  have  remembered  historic  in- 
stances of  quite  the  contrary). 

"I  wonder,  doctor,  if  I  would  do  so — I  love  dia- 
monds! 

"In  those  horrid  moments,  when  the  Unknown  Foe 
(I  think  //  must  be  a  foe)  startles  me,  I  feel  as  though 
I  were  a  falling  star,  my  heart  runs  down  so  quickly — 
something  meant  to  be  set  on  high  in  a  fixed  and  con- 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  27 

stant  path,  but  falling — falling — just  anywhere  ;  and  I 
am  so  frightened  that  I  would  (if  I  could)  catch  hold 
of  any  big  virtue  to  save  myself. 

"But  you  said  I  had  no  virtues,  only  inherited  tend- 
encies, though  you  gave  me  hopes  of  making  up  a  few 
if  I  would  exercise  tremendous  effort. 

"I  think  I  have  done  very  well  in  a  year;  everybody 
says  I  am  quite  a  genius,  and  in  full  possession  of  all 
the  light  of  the  age.  And  all  I  did  has  been  reported 
in  the  Society  papers.  'Miss  Jessamine  Halliday  has 
consented  to  take  a  stall  at  the  bazaar  for  the  dis- 
tressed costermongers.'  'Miss  Halliday  insists  upon 
the  duty  of  plain  attire,  and  does  not  fall  into  the  com- 
mon error  of  supposing  that  luxurious  expenditure  is 
good  for  trade.'  That  \vasyou,  doctor,  and  I  went  up 
in  everybody's  estimation  like  a  rocket.  They  said  it 
was  such  a  stroke  of  genius  to  see  that,  instead  of  put- 
ting the  money  into  our  own  fancy  dresses,  we  might 
put  it  into  the  fund  for  the  costermongers.  You  see, 
doctor,  that  people  will  listen  to  your  'grim'  phrases 
from  my  mouth.  How  they  did  stare  when  I  stood  on  a 
platform  and  lectured  them  on  general  topics !  I  looked 
my  best,  they  say.  And  how  everybody  did  applaud ! 

"Dear  doctor,  I  have  one  virtue:  I  like  you — you 
who  were  so  savage  to  me,  and  who  spoke  such  terrible 
words!  I  like  your  little  finger  better  than  the  whole 
heap  of  trumpery  souls  that  form  my  range  of  acquaint- 
ances. And  I  hate  the  world — yes,  I  do,  doctor,  I  hate 
it  !  I  hate  it  most  when  the  Unknown  Foe  comes  and 
touches  me.  I  cry  then — real  tears  out  of  my  heart,  if 
I  have  such  a  thing.  Lord  Heriot  and  Messrs.  So-and- 
So  say  I  have  not. 


28  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"Aunt  Arabella  does  not  know  one  bit  how,  where, 
or  why  I  have  disappeared.  I  owe  it  her  to  spite  her 
mightily.  All  my  long,  long  life  (I  am  twenty-one)  I 
can  remember  nothing  but  Aunt  Arabella's  care,  and 
Aunt  Arabella's  teaching,  and  Aunt  Arabella's  'dearest 
Jessamine'  and  Aunt  Arabella's  deportment ;  so  that 
you  will  understand  I  owe  her  SOMETHING. 

"I  will  tell  you  just  the  truth,  though  it  is  all  quite 
inexplicable,  and  it  is  this : 

"I  was  as  near  as  possible  engaged  to  Lord  Heriot. 
Aunt  Arabella  said  it  was  more  than  nearly — that,  in 
real  fact,  I  was  engaged  to  him,  and  that,  after  behav- 
ing as  I  had  behaved,  no  honorable  girl  could  draw 
back.  When  she  says  this,  she  says  what  is  not  true. 
Like  Caesar,  'I  come,  I  see,  I  conquer.'  But  there  is 
not  a  living  soul  dares  to  accuse  me  of  so  much  as  lift- 
ing an  eyelid  to  attract  any  man.  Ah,  how  full  of 
scorn  my  soul  is  sometimes!  When  I  enter  a  drawing 
room  and  see  a  strange  gentleman  there,  I  know  that 
in  five  minutes  he  will  be  beseeching  the  hostess  for  an 
introduction  to  the  dark  lady  with  the  jessamine  in  her 
hair.  Dear  doctor,  it  is  not  my  fault.  I  think  of  them 
as  if  they  were  whipped  curs,  and  Heriot  I  loathe. 

"Dear  doctor,  I  did  not  forget  your  lessons.  I  tried 
to  lead  a  new  life  of  simplicity  and  usefulness — indeed 
I  did. 

"Perhaps  I  did  not  quite  know  the  way.  Perhaps  I 
shall  have  more  time  to  think  when  I  have  got  this 
business  of  being  married  over,  and  it  is  off  my  mind 
once  and  for  always.  Aunt  Arabella  did  so  hate  you  ! 
When  I  got  better  she  would  not  let  me  ask  you  to  the 
house  as  a  friend ;  she  said  it  was  not  proper,  and  that 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  29 

you  wore  such  strange  boots.  (Will  you  give  me  one 
to  keep  in  a  glass  case  in  my  bedroom  to  help  me  to 
be  good — the  boot  that  has  walked  so  many  miles  that 
the  wearer  may  do  so  much  kindness?) 

"When  I  got  better,  I  heard  that  a  new  beauty  had 
arrived  in  London,  and  that  she  was  trying  to  catch 
ileriot.  He  is  the  biggest  catch  in  Europe,  you  know, 
doctor.  (I  tell  you  because  you  are  not  'in  Society,' 
and  so  perhaps  have  not  heard) ;  and  only  a  real  beauty 
so  much  as  dares  to  try  for  him.  But  I  never  tried  at 
all,  and  yet  there  he  was  at  my  feet !  Still,  I  own  I 
felt  curious  to  see  the  new  beauty  who  was  angling  for 
Heriot.  And  I  created  a  tremendous  sensation  by 
going  to  the  Duchess  of  S.'s  ball  in  a  dress  made 
of  unbleached  calico,  and  no  jewels  at  all.  I  did  it  be- 
cause of  you,  doctor.  And  you  never  saw  such  a  work 
of  art  as  that  dress  was,  nor  how  exquisitely  the  dull 
cream  color  suited  me.  They  say  I  never  looked  so 
lovely.  Well,  I  saw  the  new  beauty  there.  She  was 
a  large  blond  thing  in  pink  and  diamonds.  And  I 
never  lifted  even  the  tail  of  my  eye  to  Heriot — /  loathe 
Jiim.  But  he  followed  me  all  the  evening  like  a  dog, 
and  when  I  talked  to  any  other  person  he  would  have 
my  bouquet  of  jessamine  to  hold.  As  for  the  large 
blond  thing,  I  was  sorry  to  see  how  she  changed  her 
color. 

"How  sick  of  myself  I  was  when  I  got  home  !  Aunt 
Arabella  said  I  had  behaved  so  beautifully — that  my 
conduct  was  so  perfectly  ladylike !  And  there  came  a 
feeling  into  my  heart,  when  she  was  speaking  to  me, 
that  I  would  rush  out  into  the  street  in  my  wonderful 
calico  dress,  and  dance  and  scream  and  shout,  as  I  had 


3°  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

been  told  the  bad  girls  at  the  East  End  do.  Only,  of 
course,  I  did  not.  I  kissed  Aunt  Arabella  on  the 
cheek,  and  went  upstairs,  with  my  maid  behind. 

"Dear  doctor,  I  have  so  tried  to  be  and  to  do  as  you 
said.  But  perhaps — very  likely — I  did  not  quite  know 
the  way.  I  gave  all  the  money  saved  from  dress  (there 
was  not  so  much)  to  the  Charity  Organization.  You 
said  the  'Charity  Organization,'  did  you  not?  And  I 
read  Mill  and  Thoreau,  and  I  learned  such  quantities 
of  Browning!  One  day  I  brought  a  crossing  sweeper 
into  the  house  to  be  warmed  and  fed  (it  was  in  the 
Society  papers  next  week);  but  Aunt  Arabella  said  I 
must  not  on  any  account  do  such  a  thing  again ;  he 
made  such  a  mess,  and  people  talked  so,  and  a  small 
crowd  collected,  and  it  upset  the  footmen.  I  brought 
him  in  at  the  front  door,  and  made  him  stand  his  broom 
in  the  hall;  I  chose  a  wet,  muddy  day  on  purpose,  be- 
cause of  course  it  is  more  horrid  to  be  a  crossing 
sweeper  on  such  a  day  than  any.  And  you  said  that 
'one  man  was  as  good  as  another;'  but  James  and 
Thomas  did  not  seem  to  think  so,  and  Aunt  Arabella 
says  they  gave  notice. 

"Well,  as  I  said,  I  LOATHE  HERIOT;  but  he  took  a 
great  interest  in  my  work,  and  helped  me  (dear  doctor, 
I  do  so  hope  you  think  it  really  was  work  f] ;  and  this 
matter  of  my  marriage  is  so  tiresome  until  it  is  settled  ; 
and  Aunt  Arabella  said  I  should  be  able  to  do  so  much 
more  good,  and  to  be  so  much  more  useful,  if  I  were 
Lady  Heriot.  And,  of  course,  he  is  the  biggest  catch 
in  Europe — I  only  wish  there  were  a  bigger!  And, 
then,  the  large  blond  thing  was  still  trying — and  she 
ought  to  know  her  place  (an  American !).  And,  as  I 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  31 

have  said,  the  important  thing  is  marriage,  and  one 
must  get  it  over  one  time  or  another.  And  so  things 
went  on  and  on,  until  one  evening,  a  fortnight  ago, 
when,  for  once  (Aunt  Arabella  must  have  arranged  it), 
we  were  at  home,  and  alone,  and  Lord  Heriot  came  in 
to  call. 

"He  brought  a  present  for  me.  I  love  jewels.  This 
was  really  the  most  splendid  jewel  I  had  ever  seen.  It 
was  a  bracelet ;  and  it  was  in  the  shape  of  a  snake 
coiled  several  times  round.  The  eyes  were  two  enor- 
mous diamonds,  and  the  neck  and  upper  part  glittered 
with  alternate  diamonds  and  sapphires,  and  the  tail 
ended  in  a  wonderful  sapphire.  I  never  saw  such 
stones  and  such  taste!  Lord  Heriot  unfastened  the 
case,  and  laid  it  on  the  table.  He  said  it  was  a  trifling 
offering  to  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  England,  and 
I  stood  looking  down  at  it,  for,  though  I  have  plenty 
of  jewels,  I  always  want  some  more.  And  just  then 
James  came  in  with  candles. 

"Of  course,  nobody  ever  notices  a  footman,  but 
somehow  on  that  occasion  I  happened  to  do  so.  He 
brought  the  candelabra  to  the  table  where  the  case 
lay;  and  I  saw  him  glance  at  the  jewel,  and  I  saw  a  lit- 
tle significant  smile  come  into  his  eyes,  quite  a  different 
look  from  the  servant-look,  and  it  made  me  furious. 
But  I  do  not  know  why.  I  think  if  James  had  not 
come  in,  and  worn  that  little  smile  in  his  eyes,  I  might 
be  'married  and  done  for'  at  this  moment. 

"After  setting  the  candelabra  on  the  table,  James 
went  round  the  room,  drawing  the  curtains  in  quite  the 
ordinary  way,  and  Lord  Heriot  went  on  talking  in  a 
low  voice.  I  do  not  know  what  he  said,  for  I  was 


32  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

wondering  what  James  meant  by  his  odious  smile,  and 
making  up  my  mind  that  I  would  tell  Aunt  Arabella 
to  give  him  notice  next  morning.  Aunt  Arabella — she 
'  is  always  present  when  Lord  Heriot  calls,  to  see  that  I 
do  not  forget  my  manners,  and  by  my  'manners'  I 
mean  the  woman's  way  of  being  soft  and  sweet  and 
smiling  when  she  is  really  eaten  up  with  fury  and 
hate — the  slave  s  way  sometimes,  I  think,  doctor.  But, 
then,  I  think  such  out-of-the-way  things,  and  all  the 
men  tell  me  they  are  my  slaves.  But  Aunt  Arabella! 
She  sat  in  a  remote  corner,  quite  oblivious  of  us, 
and  she  was  sewing  the  eternal  altar  cloth,  which 
makes  everyone  think  her  so  pious,  and  Lord  Heriot 
talked. 

"But  I  heard  and  knew  nothing.  I  was  thinking — 
thinking  why  James  had  that  odd  smile  in  his  eye. 
And  while  I  thought  I  became  aware  that  I  was  hold- 
ing out  my  arm  unconsciously,  and  that  upon  the  wrist 
Lord  Heriot  was  clasping  the  jewel. 

"It  was  then  that  the  strange  mood  came  upon  me 
in  a  moment :  I  felt  my  Unknown  Foe  pressing  me  on 
the  heart  and  on  the  brow,  and  the  jewel  looked  like  a 
fetter  on  my  wrist  that  was  going  to  chain  me  up  for- 
ever; and  just  at  that  moment  Lord  Heriot's  hand 
gently  touched  my  bare  arm. 

"And  when  he  touched  my  arm,  I  felt  as  though  the 
snake  were  a  live  one,  and  that  it  was  cold,  and  slimy, 
and  horrible.  I  shook  my  arm  free  from  the  jewel  in 
a  moment,  and  it  fell  clattering  upon  the  table.  And 
I  looked  at  Lord  Heriot — I  know  I  did  it,  because 
Aunt  Arabella  sprang  up  from  her  seat,  dropped  the 
altar  cloth  on  the  floor,  and  said  something — I  looked 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  33 

at  him  as  though  he  were  a  snake.  And  I  heard  my 
own  voice  saying  quite  coldly  and  quietly: 

"'Thank  you,  Lord  Heriot;  I  will  not  have  your 
jewel.  I  do  not  like  snakes.' 

"And  then  I  walked  out  of  the  room,  but  not  before 
I  saw  him  turn  pale  with  fury.  And  when  I  got  to  my 
bedroom  I  felt  sorry,  because  the  jewel  was  so  pretty, 
and  because  I  knew  he  would  take  it  straight  to  the 
blond  person.  And  I  began  to  walk  up  and  down  in 
the  twilight. 

"It  would  be  all  very  well  if  I  could  have  the  brace- 
let without  the  giver;  but  a  girl  can't  accept  handsome 
presents  like  that  without  being  engaged.  And  it 
would  be  all  very  well  if  I  could  be  Lord  Heriot's 
widow;  but  there  is  such  a  dark  place  between.  And 
oh,  dear  doctor!  I  loathe  that  dark  place  so — the  see- 
ing him  day  after  day,  and  never  any  more  being  able 
to  escape  until  death  comes.  I  wonder  why  marriage 
is  so  hateful  to  me.  It  is  not  to  all  girls;  for  a  few — 
one  or  two — have  told  me  they  were  glad.  The  others 
were  indifferent,  or  miserable,  or  frightened,  or  pious 
and  resigned.  I  think  very  few  would  be  married  if  it 
were  not  for  the  flattery  and  triumph  and  the  fuss  of 
the  wedding  day,  and  if  there  were  anything  else  to  do. 
Men  play  upon  our  vanity,  and  that,  of  course,  is  pro- 
digious. 

"I  think  sometimes  that  no  girl  would  be  married  at 
all  if  there  were  anything  else  possible.  But  of  course 
there  is  not. 

"And  all  these  thoughts  have  only  come  to  me  since 
that  fatal  bracelet  evening.  I  said  many  such  things 
to  myself  then  as  I  walked  up  and  down  the  room. 


34  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"But  by  and  by  the  fury  went  out  of  my  mind,  and 
the  twilight  gathered  about  me,  and  I  began  to  feel  so 
strange.  I  began  to  remember  some  of  the  things  you 
had  said ;  only,  this  time,  though  they  were  yours, 
they  seemed  to  be  coming  back  to  me  through  my  own 
heart.  You  told  me  to  work,  and  to  live  simply.  I 
thought  I  really  had  been  trying;  but  to-night — to- 
night— as  I  walked  about  in  the  dusk,  it  seemed  as 
though  it  had  been  all  by  rote. 

"I  felt  like  a  shadow — a  shadow  in  a  vain  world.  I 
am  so  sick  of  shadows.  And  then  the  Unknown  Foe 
came  to  me,  and  I  felt  my  heart  swelling  and  my  brow 
throbbing,  and  the  tears  rushed  out  of  my  eyes.  I 
stretched  my  hands  about  in  the  darkness,  feeling  for 
something  that  I  could  not  find.  My  heart  beat  so. 
I  had  a  feeling  of  great  trouble  in  my  mind.  It  was 
no  use  praying.  If  you  had  prayed  at  Aunt  Arabella's 
knee  as  a  little  child,  and  by  her  side  in  church  all 
through  your  young  life,  )'ou  would  never  want  to 
pray,  nor  dream  of  doing  it  when  trouble  comes. 

"But  after  a  time  I  sat  down  in  the  big  armchair  in 
the  corner;  it  began  to  grow  dark,  and  a  moonbeam 
suddenly  came  and  laid  a  long  thin  streak  of  light  upon 
the  carpet  and  up  my  dress.  And  while  I  sat  with  my 
hands  tight  clasped  on  my  knee,  my  Great  Idea  came 
into  my  mind.  It  was  like  an  inspiration ;  and  I  re- 
membered you  had  told  me  to  seize  hold  of  an  inspira- 
tion, if  ever  I  got  one,  and  to  trust  to  it.  A  voice  out 
of  my  own  heart  said  to  me : 

"  'The  world  is  vain;  go  out  of  it.  You  feel  like  a 
shadow;  step  into  the  real.  You  are  sick  of  shams; 
try  vigorous  work,' 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WO  MAX.  35 

"It  seemed  so  simple  when  it  was  said,  and  yet  the 
being  able  to  say  it  was  like  the  clapping  of  thunder 
after  a  long,  still,  sultry  day.  And  I  thought  I  would, 
doctor.  I  thought  I  would  leave  Aunt  Arabella  and 
all  my  finery,  and  that  I  would  go  out  alone  into  the 
workaday  world  and  see  what  it  is  like.  I  have  no 
idea  what  it  is  like,  but  I  mean  to  see.  The  having 
the  inspiration  to  do  it  was  the  difficult  thing.  The 
moment  it  got  into  my  brain  I  made  out  a  whole 
scheme  quickly.  The  scheme  I  will  not  impart  even 
to  you,  dear  doctor,  but  only  the  inspiration.  I  am 
telling  you  that  you  may  know  a  cruel  fate  has  not 
befallen  me,  but  that  I  am  where  I  have  chosen  to  be. 

"As  I  sat  in  my  armchair  and  made  my  plans,  I  be- 
gan to  laugh,  and  I  clapped  my  hands  softly  in  the 
darkness.  It  seemed  so  charming,  so  new — the  best 
thing  I  had  ever  devised,  and  the  most  startling.  All 
the  Society  papers  will  talk;  Heriot  will  rave;  and  my 
Aunt  Arabella  will— 

"Dear  doctor,  it  was  just  there  that  a  cruel  little 
thought  came  and  tripped  up  my  joy  as  it  went  danc- 
ing along  the  future  path  I  had  sketched  for  it.  Sup- 
posing— I  asked  myself — supposing  you  can  never, 
never,  NEVER  get  rid  of  your  Aunt  Arabella?  Sup- 
posing that  when  you  were  a  little,  little  child,  with 
heart  as  soft  as  the  softest  clay,  and  limbs  like  un- 
kneaded  dough,  and  a  mind  like  an  unwritten  page, 
your  Aunt  Arabella  wrote  all  over  it,  and  gave  a  twist 
to  your  heart  and  a  turn  to*  your  limbs  that  you  can 
never,  never,  NEVER  get  rid  of?  Supposing  that — hate 
and  hate  her  as  you  may — your  Aunt  Arabella  has  be- 
come a  part  of  you,  which  you  can  never  throw  off  until 


3 6  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN'. 

all  your  body  falls  into  decay?  Perhaps  not  then — 
perhaps  when  your  soul  flies  away,  even,  it  will  carry 
your  Aunt  Arabella  with  it. 

"I  thought  of  it  until  my  heart  went  cold  like  a  stone, 
from  terror.  I  seemed  to  be  like  a  creature  coming  to 
life,  for  the  first  moment  to  find  itself,  without  choice 
of  its  own,  in  a  terrible  labyrinth  without  chance  of 
escape.  And  there  I  sat  down  and  wept.  And  my 
Unknown  Foe  sat  down  and  wept  with  me. 

"So  many  thoughts,  dear  doctor,  had  never  come 
into  my  mind  before.  It  seems  to  me  that  when  you 
have  opened  the  way  to  one  inspiration,  you  cannot 
close  the  door  before  a  host  of  unwished  and  uninvited 
followers  have  entered.  But  what  I  thought  only 
made  me  more  determined.  I  would  go  away — lose 
myself — hide.  And  I  wished  there  had  been  a  Pool  of 
Siloam  somewhere,  into  which  I  could  have  stepped 
down  and  got  rid  of  the  Aunt  Arabella  in  me,  and 
washed  myself  clean  of  her,  and  come  out  upon  the 
other  side  just  'Jessamine*  and  no  more.  How  strange 
that  here,  on  my  first  venture  into  an  independent  life, 
I  should  find  myself  so  mixed  and  fictitious  a  creature 
that  I  knew  not  how  to  calculate  upon  myself! 

"But  one  thing,  doctor,  I  am  certain  of.  I  am  going 
to  do  a  good  and  useful  thing;  and  perhaps  the  world 
will  know  of  it  afterward,  and  I  shall  be  a  leader,  a 
pioneer,  and  others  will  follow  me.  Dear  doctor,  I  am 
going  out  like  the  apostles  and  the  teachers  of  old,  to 
do  good.  Believe  it  of  your  little  patient. 

"But,  oh!  promise — promise  me  one  thing.  Don't 
tell  Aunt  Arabella  even  this  one  word  !  She  doesn't 
care  in  her  heart  of  hearts  what  happens  to  me.  She 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  37 

has  nothing  but  an  ambition  for  me,  by  means  of  which 
she  herself  would  step  up  higher.  Don't  let  her  come 
and  ferret  me  out. 

"Your  grateful  and  reformed 

"JESSAMINE  HALLIDAY." 

Dr.  Cornerstone  finished  the  letter,  folded  it  up,  and 
placed  it  in  his  pocket.  And  then  he  sighed. 

"Tell  Aunt  Arabella!"  said  he.  "I  think  I  would 
bite  my  own  tongue  out  first,  Jessamine !  But  oh  !  my 
fairest  among  fair  women,  that  dip  into  the  Pool  of 
Siloam  is,  as  you  surmise,  no  easy  business." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  PEASANT  farmer,  in  a  remote  district  of  the  High- 
lands, stood  at  the  door  of  his  cottage,  conversing  with 
his  wife.  The  man's  name  was  John  McKenzie,  and 
the  little  tract  of  land  which  he  tilled  was  named 
Drynoch.  t 

The  cottage  was  a  roomy  place,  designed  and  built 
by  amateur  hands,  with  some  assistance  from  the  mason 
and  carpenter.  The  architecture  was  primitive  and 
odd ;  but  the  whole  result  was  comfort,  space,  and 
decency.  The  owner,  a  strapping  fellow  of  thirty-five 
years,  with  a  dark  beard  and  fine  gray  eyes,  leaned 
against  the  side  of  a  porch,  which  was  creeper-covered 
with  the  hardy  convolvulus. 

The  season  was  unusually  hot  and  dry,  and  on  this 
glorious  July  afternoon  the  sun  poured  down  such 
mighty  rays  as  are  not  often  felt  in  the  Highlands. 
The  farmers  looked  thirstily  day  by  day  for  rain, 
lamenting  the  moisture  necessary  to  their  light  and 
sandy  soil,  but  accommodating  their  minds,  with  the 
patience  of  their  race,  to  the  perversity  of  a  climate 
which  rarely  blesses  the  efforts  of  human  toil  with 
liberal  assistance. 

The  country  was  bleak,  poor,  and  yet  beautiful,  hav- 
ing much  natural  splendor,  though  little  luxuriance  for 
human  needs.  A  broad  valley  spread  between  the  hill 
ranges ;  here  and  there  lay  a  silvery  loch ;  the  universal 

38 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  39 

heather  ground  was  broken  by  the  green  gold  of  ripen- 
ing corn,  the  verdure  of  sparse  pastures,  or  bluish  drills 
of  turnips  and  potatoes;  every  level  and  brae  that 
would  give  some  return  to  culture  carried  its  crop; 
woods  of  birch  (low,  gray,  and  bushy)  covered  the 
knolls  of  unredeemed  land,  or  the  glorious  growth  of 
heather  spread  undisturbed ;  while  isolated  groups  of 
pine  shot  somberly  upward,  strengthening  the  air  with 
their  fine  aroma.  Fir  woods  covered  the  lower  hills, 
where,  according  to  the  farmers'  opinion,  sheep  should 
have  been  grazing;  and  the  higher  hills,  with  their 
solemn,  unapproachable  sides,  reflected  the  mute  lan- 
guage of  the  sky  in  the  perpetual  change  of  light  and 
shadow. 

On  this  still  July  afternoon  nothing  stirred  in  the  air 
save  here  and  there  the  white  wing  of  a  loch  gull,  no 
sound  met  the  ear  save  the  light  domestic  noises  from 
inside  the  cottage,  and  now  and  then  the  shout  of  a 
peasant  child  herding  cows  at  a  distance. 

"I  must  be  off  to  fetch  the  kye  home,"  said  John 
McKenzie  to  some  person  invisible  within  the  cottage. 

"Ay,"  responded  a  voice,  "there  you  stand  like  a 
crow  in  a  cornfield,  just  always  ready  to  be  away." 

It  was  a  soft  voice,  with  a  musical  fall  and  rise  and 
drawl  in  it,  a  measured  temperance  of  long  habit  con- 
veying sharp  words  harmlessly,  and  it  belonged  to 
John  McKenzie's  wife  Annie. 

"Where  will  the  bonnie  wee  lassie  be?"  inquired 
John,  lowering  his  voice  and  peering  round  curiously. 

"She  is  just  drinking  her  tea  in  her  room." 

"She  will  soon  be  through  with  that,"  returned 
John;  "it  is  no  a  very  great  occupation." 


4°  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"Oh,  yes;  she  will  soon  be  through." 

"And  an  awful  uncommon  hour  for  tea-drinking, 
Annie." 

"Indeed,  we  will  no  be  finding  fault  with  new-fangled 
notions  that  have  their  uses.  It  will  just  be  giving  me 
time  to  look  round  and  to  find  myself  again." 

"Five  o'clock  is  no  a  very  decorous  hour  for  tea,"  in- 
sisted McKenzie.  "But  she's  bonnie,"  added  he  softly. 

"And  you  will  have  been  saying  that  a  good  few 
times,  John  McKenzie!" 

"Annie!" 

"A-weel !" 

"I  was  just  in  a  terrification  when  I  was  seeing  her 
first.  I  call  her  awful  bonnie !  It  fetches  a  body's 
breath  to  see  a  lassie  like  that  stepping  out  of  a  train 
her  lane,  and  coming  up  and  just  saying,  'Are  you 
John  McKenzie?'" 

"Indeed,  and  it  will  be  making  a  woman  start  to  see 
her  step  into  the  kitchen  like  a  wraith,  and  to  hear  her 
saying,  'Shall  I  wash  up  for  you,  Mrs.  McKenzie?'  " 

"It  will  be  an  awful  strange  dispensation  for  us, 
Annie." 

"A-weel.  We  must  be  taking  the  Lord's  will  as  it 
falls  upon  us.  And  she  pays  well." 

"Oh,  yes;  it's  a  good  input.  She  pays  well,  though 
she's  but  a  lassie,  and  a  bonnie  one." 

"So  bonnie  that  she  casts  a  shadow." 

"Ay.  She  makes  the  wee  bit  housie  look  ill-sorted. 
And  such  a  sight  of  bonniness  going  her  lane  makes  a 
body  think." 

"I'm  thinking  we  may  just  as  well  think  good  as  ill 
thoughts." 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  41 

"I'm  not  saying  to  the  contrairy.  You  will  be  kind 
to  her,  Annie?" 

"Indeed,  I  hope  so.     I  shall  do  my  best,  whatever." 

"And  best  brings  best  along  after  it." 

"At  times,  John  McKenzie,"  replied  Annie  with 
deliberation,  "that  has  a  fine-sounding  flourish,  but  I'm 
not  very  sure  it  will  fit  the  uncertainties  of  this  world. 
It  will  be  an  ill  thing  to  be  sorry  for  our  wrong-doing, 
but  it  is  a  worse  to  be  sorry  for  our  good." 

John  scratched  his  head. 

"I'm  not  very  sure  if  that  will  be  sound  doctrine, 
Annie.  But  when  she  is  through  with  tea,  what  then?" 

"Indeed,  she  will  ever  be  wearying  till  I  find  her  a 
new  occupation.  I  must  just  give  her  the  graip,  John 
McKenzie,  and  bid  her  lift  a  potato  for  to-morrow's 
dinner." 

"It  makes  a  body  giddy  to  have  to  bid  a  rare  bonnie 
leddy  lift  potatoes.  How  will  she  answer,  Annie?" 

*rjust,  'Thank  you,  Mrs.  McKenzie.'  Her  voice  is 
soft  like  honey,  and  she  is — ay — teachable  and  gentle. 
Whiles  I  turn  over  in  my  mind  if  it's  waking  or  dream- 
ing. But  I  haud  on  to  my  pigs  and  pans  and  look  no 
further.  Biding's  better  nor  spiering,  and  there's  just 
no  time  for  wonder." 

"A-weel.  It  is  an  awful  strange  dispensation.  Has 
Colin  been?" 

"Indeed,  you  would  be  hearing  if  he  had." 

"Then  Colin  has  not  seen  her  yet?" 

"I  will  not  be  saying  whether  he  has  met  her  in  the 
road." 

"I  made  some  mention  of  the  matter  to  Colin." 

"A  man's  tongue  is  ever  ready  with  clash." 


42  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"Nay,  woman!  This  is  a  dispensation  that  wants  a 
wee  bit  explanation.  It  makes  a  body  feel  mixtie- 
maxtie  to  come  upon  her  sudden  like  amidst  the  pots 
and  pans." 

"And  what  will  Colin  be  saying?" 

"Oh,  he  will  just  be  saying  that  there  is  no  inquiring 
into  the  new-fangled  ways  of  an  ill  place  like  London.  ' 

"Colin  thinks  himself  no  sheep-shank." 

"Oh,  he  will  ever  be  a  very  discreet  douce  man." 

"I'm  not  saying  to  the  contrairy.  Whist!  John; 
she  will  be  coming  downstairs  now.  I  can  hear  the 
jingle  of  the  cups.  It  is  a  sore  dispensation  having  a 
London  lassie  in  and  out  amongst  the  kitchen  work; 
but  I  will  not  be  saying  that  it  is  worse  than  a  man 
standing  havering  on  the  doorstep." 

So  saying,  Mrs.  McKenzie,  who  had  been  throwing 
the  soft  modulations  of  her  voice  from  some  place 
invisible,  appeared  on  the  threshold.  She  had  a  mat- 
ronly figure,  soft  red  hair  falling  upon  each  side  of  her 
forehead,  steady  gray  eyes  with  a  smile  in  them,  and 
a  beautifully  arched  head.  The  effect  of  her  glance 
upon  her  husband's  face  was  as  the  quiet  and  unnotice- 
able  stirring  of  conscience  within  him  ;  the  two  things 
had  been  for  so  long  a  period  simultaneous  that  John 
McKenzie  ceased  to  discriminate  between  them ;  he 
thought  it  an  original  stirring  of  compunction  which 
now  reminded  him  of  his  cows  and  caused  him  to  walk 
off  suddenly  with  a  strong  swinging  gait. 

Mrs.  McKenzie  turned  back  into  the  cottage  to  wel- 
come with  the  same  genial  smile  of  kindliness  the 
entrance  of  another  person. 

An  inner  door  which  had  been  closed  before  was  now 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    IVOMA.V.  43 

open,  and  upon  the  threshold  stood  a  slim  girl,  clothed 
in  a  gray  linsey  dress  and  holding  a  tray.  She  had 
the  cautious  look  of  one  unaccustomed  to  the  office. 
Her  two  small  hands  grasped  the  sides  firmly,  and  her 
eyes  were  bent  in  anxious  solicitude  upon  the  crockery, 
while  a  slight  tension  in  the  grace  of  her  figure  marked 
a  conscious  difficulty  of  poise.  From  the  ruffled 
shadowy  hair,  gathered  above  the  arch  of  the  head,  to 
the  small  foot  planted  on  the  ground  with  elastic  firm- 
ness, she  was  a  perfect  model  of  a  very  rare  type  of 
beauty.  And  when  she  raised  her  dark  lashes,  and 
fixed  her  eyes  with  a  whimsical  look  of  fright  in  them 
upon  Mrs.  McKenzie,  she  had  a  marvelous  charm. 

Some  faces  distort  the  expression  of  beautiful  feel- 
ing, others  fling  trifling  and  even  ignoble  emotions  into 
a  momentary  exquisiteness  of  setting.  Some  souls 
beat  out  their  deep  and  tragic  personality  in  an  inher- 
ited mold  of  stupidity ;  others  carry  their  trivial 
experiences  through  a  medium  of  ancestral  nobility. 

Mrs.  McKenzie  relieved  the  girl  of  her  tray,  and  set 
it  upon  the  table. 

"Shall  I  wash  up  the  things?"  asked  the  newcomer 
in  musical,  well-bred  English. 

"Oh,  yes.  If  you  will  not  be  minding  it,  you  can 
wash  up." 

"And  when  that  is  done?" 

"When  that  is  done,"  returned  Mrs.  McKenzie,  with 
a  great  patience,  "you  will  be  taking  the  graip — 

"But  what  is  the  graip?" 

Mrs.  McKenzie  produced  an  agricultural  instrument 
in  the  shape  of  a  short  iron  fork. 

"A  graip  will  just  be  this  fork." 


44  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"Oh,  thank  you." 

"And  you  will  be  going  down  to  the  potato 
drill— 

"The  drill?" 

"In  the  garden — 

"I  think  I  know,  thank  you." 

"And  you  will  be  lifting  a  few  potatoes  for  dinner 
to-morrow." 

"Shall  I  have  to  dig  deep?"  asked  the  girl,  with  a 
pretty  animation. 

"Not  deep  at  all.  You  will  just  be  gently  loosening 
the  roots,  and  then  you  will  be  shaking  the  plant  out 
of  the  soil,  and  you  will  be  rinding  the  potatoes." 

"Thank  you.     And  shall  I  peel  them  afterward?" 

"Folks,"  returned  Mrs.  McKenzie,  with  the  faintest 
sign  of  exasperation,  "will  be  resting  from  their  labor 
at  eventide." 

"I  am  not  tired." 

"Potato-peeling  is  hurting  to  the  skin.  It  will  be 
very  hashing  to  your  wee  bit  hands." 

"I  do  not  mind,"  returned  the  girl,  with  intense 
earnestness;  "I  wish  to  work.  I  wish  to  help  you." 

"Oh,  yes,"  returned  Mrs.  McKenzie,  with  a  sigh. 

The  conversation  was  broken  by  the  patter  of  two 
bare-footed  children  into  the  kitchen.  It  was  one  of 
Mrs.  McKenzie's  secret  grievances  that,  since  "the 
bonnie  leddy's"  advent,  she  had  been  unable  to  keep 
her  own  little  Maysie  and  Maysie's  five  or  six  com- 
panions from  pattering  over  the  carefully  cleaned  floors 
in  order  to  get  a  fair  look  at  the  show. 


CHAPTER  V. 

WiIEX  Miss  Jessamine  Halliday  made  up  her  mind 
to  the  project  of  disappearance,  which  she  disclosed  in 
her  letter  to  Dr.  Cornerstone,  she  recalled  this  patch  of 
country  in  the  Highlands.  She  had  passed  through  it 
once  when  on  a  journey  of  pleasure;  it  was  a  large  dis- 
trict, unattractive  to  the  ordinary  tourist  as  a  place  of 
continued  residence;  the  few  cottages,  sprinkled  here 
and  there  among  farm  lands,  were  inhabited  solely  by 
peasants,  and  had  little  or  no  accommodation  for 
lovers  of  luxury.  This  isolation  made  it  precisely  the 
refuge  she  required.  She  recollected  the  cottage  of 
the  McKenzies,  having  stopped  to  purchase  a  glass  of 
milk  there;  and  John  McKenzie  had  consented  by  let- 
ter to  rent  her  a  couple  of  rooms  in  his  house,  and  had 
also  understood  that  the  arrangement  included  instruc- 
tion in  the  household  work  and  a  share  in  the  life  of 
the  family.  He  drove  to  the  station — many  miles  dis- 
tant— expecting  to  meet  and  carry  home  with  him  a 
big  lassie,  with  substantial  wrists  and  a  bustling  air  of 
management;  nor  was  he  without  some  shrewd  appre- 
hension of  a  bargain  advantageous  to  himself.  The 
contrast  between  his  conception  and  the  amazing 
actuality  threw  him  into  a  condition  of  ecstatic  amuse- 
ment and  perplexity,  of  which  he  had  been  unable  to 
rid  himself  during  the  drive  home,  or,  indeed,  for  days 
afterwaVd. 

45 


4<  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

Upon  Jessamine's  part  was  unmitigated  satisfaction. 
When  she  got  into  the  trap  by  McKenzie's  side,  her 
modest  trunk  pushed  in  behind,  she  looked  round  upon 
the  broad  stretch  of  country  with  a  sense  of  beatitude. 
After  London,  with  its  heat  of  life,  its  inconsequent 
fret  and  flurry,  after  Aunt  Arabella,  the  width  and 
grandeur  were  as  the  space  is  to  an  escaped  bird,  and 
the  peace  and  calmness  dropped  like  cold  dews  on  her 
heart.  And  then,  after  this  draught  of  spiritual  refresh- 
ment, she  sat  up  in  the  dogcart  to  glance  at  the  face  of 
the  driver. 

From  class  to  class,  faces  are  as  nothing — mere 
masks,  beyond  which  nothing  can  be  seen  because 
nothing  is  surmised.  The  roving  eye,  softly  aflame 
with  hope  and  entreaty,  seeks  out  the  lineaments  of 
desire,  but  drops  dead  and  dull  beyond  the  barriers  of 
rank.  Here  the  divine  spark  fails,  the  tinder  takes  it 
not.  Or  if  any  avail  to  cast  it  unquenched  beyond 
the  pale,  that  is  a  sin  which  society  may  not  condone. 

Jessamine,  however,  had  some  occasion  to  study  the 
face  of  her  future  host.  She  found  it  an  intelligent 
exponent  of  indispensable  human  traits;  shrewd,  cau- 
tious, gentle  thoughts  had  left  tracks  upon  it,  while 
from  the  eyes  a  spirit  of  human  kindliness  looked 
leniently  upon  the  world.  Besides  these  general  char- 
acteristics, an  irrepressible  smile  lurked  upon  the  man's 
lips,  broadening  them  out  and  curling  them  up  did  any 
occasion  betray  the  secret  humor  which  tickled  his 
spirit.  The  reason  for  his  unaccountable  mirth  was  no 
part  of  Jessamine's  care;  she  let  it  alone,  and  for  the 
rest  sank  back  in  her  seat  satisfied. 

It  was  a  part  of  Jessamine's  character  to  enter  into 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  47 

a  matter  with  zest,  until  the  point  was  reached  when 
she  relinquished  the  whim  in  favor  of  the  next.  The 
morning  after  her  arrival  she  proved  her  mettle  by  set- 
ting to  work  at  once,  and  kept  steadily  at  it  for  the 
next  week  or  so.  Mrs.  McKenzie  found  that  slimness 
of  figure  and  fineness  of  face  are  not  incompatible  with 
persistence  in  labor,  and  by  degrees  she  began  to 
accustom  herself  to  the  soft,  radiant  presence  among 
her  pots  and  pans  and  to  lose  something  of  her  exas- 
peration, though  still  inwardly  bewildered  by  a  sense 
of  unreality  invading  her  prosaic  labors,  as  though  a 
dream  should  inexplicably  involve  itself  amid  high 
noontide  hours. 

Meanwhile,  the  t\vo  or  three  weeks  of  vigorous  ap. 
plication  told  upon  Jessamine's  appearance ;  labor, 
early  rising,  and  exercise  brought  a  pink  flush  into  her 
cheeks  and  inspirited  her  aspect,  while  little  fierce  lines 
of  effort  began  to  pluck  up  the  melancholic  Burne- 
Jones  droop  of  lips  and  chin.  Moving  about  McKen- 
zie's  house  or  barns  or  fields,  she  was — either  from  the 
disparity  of  her  surroundings  or  for  a  much  more 
subtle  and  human  reason— lovelier  and  more  attractive 
than  in  her  life  before.  A  look  was  in  her  face  like  to 
the  ripening  of  fruit  when  the  sun  is  up.  ; 

A  whole  month  passed  away,  and  one  evening  she 
sat  in  her  room  repairing  a  rent  in  her  working  dress. 
She  had  brought  no  other  gowns  than  these  rough 
linseys,  whose  simple  make  suited  so  admirably  not 
only  the  labor  she  had  undertaken,  but  the  grace  of 
the  wearer.  After  sewing  industriously  for  some 
time,  she  took  her  scissors  and  snipped  the  thread  off 
with  a  little  composed  air  of  self-satisfaction,  let  the 


48  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

dress  fall  upon  her  lap,  and  looked  up  idly  to  the 
window. 

Supposing  anyone  undertook  to  disentangle  the  bare 
prosaic  content  of  thought  from  the  various  and  beau- 
tiful emotions  in  which  it  is  transfigured,  the  result 
might  be  startling  to  the  sensibility.  Jessamine's  think- 
ing, for  .all  her  intense  and  exalted  air,  may  be  briefly 
summed  up  as  follows : 

"I  am  leading  a  useful  and  simple  life;  I  have  for- 
saken the  refinement  and  luxury  necessary  to  a  person 
of  my  culture  to  come  among  these  poor  cottagers,  and 
to  give  them  the  benefit  of  my  help  and  superior  influ- 
ence. Dr.  Cornerstone  will  be  pleased  with  me,  and 
will  be  more  interested  in  me  than  ever.  I  am  really 
endeavoring  to  be  good — and,  of  course,  remarkable  at 
the  same  time.  And  as  I  am  a  most  beautiful  and 
clever  woman,  my  example  will  be  the  more  striking; 
people  will  follow  it,  and  my  position  in  society  will  be 
elevated.  Meanwhile,  it  is  delightful  to  spite  Aunt 
Arabella  and  to  torture  Lord  Heriot,  whom  I  hate,  but 
intend  eventually  to  marry." 

The  girl  had  no  idea  that  these  were  her  thoughts ; 
she  felt  and  looked  something  so  different ;  indeed,  she 
experienced  a  warm,  subdued  glow  as  she  recalled  Dr. 
Cornerstone's  profound  and  austere  instructions,  and 
she  mistook  the  reflected  fires  of  his  strong  spirit  for  a 
flame  within  her  own. 

After  her  meditation,  she  rose  and  went  out  to  watch 
the  milking  of  the  cows  in  the  barn.  When  that  was 
over,  she  came  outside  to  refresh  herself  and  breathe 
the  air. 

It  was  a  silent  evening;  the  converse  of  the  fowls, 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  49 

dreamily  disputing  between  the  pauses  of  her  thoughts, 
was  the  only  sound.  The  sun,  though  the  hour  was 
late,  hung  softly  brilliant  in  the  sky;  the  tints  and 
shadows  were  tremulously  deep  and  vivid;  a  visionary 
beauty,  like  some  diaphanous  covering,  enwrapped  the 
hills  and  woods  and  valley,  and  the  enchantment 
dropped  even  upon  the  human  heart.  Jessamine  for- 
got to  think,  and  her  mind  lay  passive  to  feeling.  Her 
face  was  turned  to  the  hills,  the  light  mused  in  her 
eyes  and  folded  itself  like  a  veil  about  her  head. 

And  in  such  a  moment  as  this  fell  the  master  event 
of  her  life. 

The  opening  of  the  wicket  gate  into  the  inclosure 
had  not  disturbed  her,  nor  a  tread  which  followed  ;  she 
supposed  McKenzie  to  be  still  at  his  work;  but  the 
gradual  apprehension  of  suspended  sound  at  length 
attracted  her  attention,  and  then,  looking  round,  she 
saw,  a  few  paces  from  her,  a  man  whom  she  had  not 
before  encountered.  He  was  standing  as  though 
arrested,  looking  upon  her  with  a  gaze  of  unembar- 
rassed concentration,  yet  so  impersonal  as  to  miss 
effrontery.  His  dress  was  that  of  a  peasant  farmer.  In 
person  he  possessed  a  full  share  of  the  strength  and 
height  of  his  race ;  he  had  great  shoulders  and  limber 
straight  limbs;  moreover,  his  face  was  of  a  fine  quality, 
firm  in  feature,  with  steady  eyes  of  a  yellowish  brown, 
and  throwing  out  an  impression  of  independence,  pride, 
and  unconquerable  gentleness.  Jessamine,  startled 
into  attention,  inadvertently  permitted  her  glance  to 
be  locked  by  his,  whereupon  he  merely  altered  his  gaze 
so  far  as  to  throw  into  it  an  added  steadiness;  his  ex- 
pression remained  the  while  placid  and  unconscious, 


50  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

and  his  head  took  a  slight  inclination  from  its  normal 
uprightness,  so  as  to  suggest  his  bearing  when  in 
church  or  when  in  presence  of  anything  curious  and 
uncommon. 

Jessamine,  who  was  profoundly  sensitive  to  the  im- 
pression she  produced,  perceived  as  clearly  as  though 
she  read  it  from  a  printed  page,  that  he  who  was  thus 
gazing  upon  her  recognized  in  her  no  part  of  his  own 
humanity,  but  found  her  a  picture,  an  art  product,  an 
object  which  it  was  well  for  him  to  have  seen,  and  no 
more.  Indeed,  so  mirrorlike  and  accurate  an  impres- 
sion of  herself  was  reflected  back  from  his  eyes  and 
face  that  it  became  a  moment  of  self-revelation. 

It  touched  her  mind  as  with  a  pin's  point,  and  the 
finest  ripple  of  feeling  passed  over  her  features.  The 
man,  remarking  it,  lifted  his  cap  and  removed  his  eyes; 
but  this  was  so  evidently  the  exercise  of  will  in  casting 
off  an  entertaining  triviality,  that  it  became  a  worse 
misdemeanor  than  the  first.  Translated  into  her  own 
phrase,  the  voiceless  verdict  floated  thus  to  the  ear  of 
her  mind : 

"An  art  product,  a  curiosity,  very  pleasing  and 
unique,  which  I  am  glad  to  have  beheld,  but  it  is  no 
affair  of  mine,  and  I  cannot  waste  my  time  upon  it." 

As  this  clear  conviction  entertained  her,  the  man 
advanced  toward  her  and  passed  by;  his  steps  brushed 
close  through  the  grass,  and  his  shadow  fell  upon  her 
as  he  went,  and  she  caught  an  odor — not  of  cigars  and 
high  living,  but  as  of  temperance  and  "a  fruitful  field." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

JESSAMINE,  paring  apples  with  Mrs.  McKenzie  in 
the  kitchen,  was  as  pretty  as  an  Academy  picture,  and 
about  as  real.  A  peat  fire  burned  on  the  hearth,  with 
the  kettle  swinging  over  it ;  on  one  side  the  chimney 
sat  Mrs.  McKenzie,  a  bowl  of  apples  grasped  in  her 
sturdy  knees  and  an  empty  one  by  her  side,  paring 
away  with  a  prosiac  dispatch  and  a  murderous  sound 
of  steel.  Jessamine  sat  opposite  on  a  wooden  bench 
against  the  open  window;  a  trellis  creeper  pinked  out 
the  window  frame  with  a  pretty  embroidery  and  cast  a 
checker  of  light  and  shade  over  her  head.  She  had  an 
earthenware  bowl  deftly  balanced  on  her  knee,  and  a 
long  ribbon  of  peel  uncurled  itself  from  her  fingers 
slowly  and  daintily,  for  Jessamine  worked  in  some  fear 
of  the  knife  and  with  care  for  the  finish  of  the  matter. 
The  door  as  well  as  the  window  was  thrown  open  to 
let  in  a  broad  and  cheerful  beam,  and  from  outside  the 
noises  of  fowl  life — the  hectoring  and  disputing,  the 
boasting  and  wise  counsel  of  matrons,  the  swagger  of 
cocks — assailed  the  ear  with  a  continual  reminder  that 
there  are  other  worlds  than  ours. 

"Mrs.  McKenzie,"  said  Jessamine,  breaking  the 
silence,  "who  was  that  man  who  called  last  night  on 
your  husband?"  The  question  had  been  goading  the 
tip  of  her  tongue  all  morning. 

"That  will  be  Colin  Macgillvray  you  are  meaning. 


52  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

Him  and  John  are  great  friends.  Macgillvray  Dalfa- 
ber,"  added  Mrs.  McKenzie,  to  be  explicit. 

"Mr.  Colin  Macgillvray  of  Dalfaber,"  repeated  Jessa- 
mine; "and  where  is  Dalfaber?" 

"It  will  be  west  to  here.  Across  the  fields,  on  the 
other  side  the  road." 

"The  house  lying  far  off  by  the  loch?" 

"That  will  be  it.  It  lies  on  the  hill  above  the  loch, 
high  on  the  moor." 

"Ah,  I  think  I  know!  So  near  as  that?  Some  barns 
and  a  thatched  cottage  and  some  oat  fields." 

"That  will  be  Dalfaber,  lassie.  It  will  be  lying  about 
half  a  mile  distant — a  thatched  cottage.  Macgillvrays 
have  but  a  poor  bit  housie." 

"I  suppose — is  he  a  fanner?" 

"Oh,  yes,  he  is  a  farmer!" 

"Does  he  work  for  himself?" 

"Oh,  yes;  he  will  be  doing  all  the  workpn  the  farm  ! 
It  will  be  his  father's  farm — old  Mr.  Rorie  Macgillvray. 
He  is  a  very  old  man." 

Jessamine  was  silent  again  ;  Mrs.  McKenzie  dropped 
three  apples  into  the  bowl  to  her  one. 

"Mr.  Colin  Macgillvray  is  married,  of  course?"  said 
she  presently. 

"Oh,  no !  Colin  is  not  married;  oh,  no!  Indeed, 
and  he  is  not  married !  He  will  be  just  living  with  his 
father  and  mother." 

"You  like  this  Mr.  Macgillvray?  He  is  a  respecta- 
ble man?  " 

"Oh,  yes;  we  like  Colin  Macgillvray  very  well !  He 
is  just  a  douce  quiet  man.  His  mind's  just  in  his 
worruk.  He  doesn't  think  of  much  else.  There's 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  53 

nothing  in  him  than  his  worruk.  That  will  be  Colin. 
Oh,  yes!  The  farmers  about  keep  themselves  very 
respectable." 

With  which  Mrs.  McKenzie,  who  saw  Macgillvray 
with  the  familiar  eye  of  one  who  looks  upon  a  thing  so 
commonly  as  to  sweep  the  surface  merely  and  to  miss 
the  essence,  dropped  the  last  apple  in  the  dish  and 
seemed  to  reach  the  end  of  the  subject.  Not  so  Jessa- 
mine; for  to  meet  the  person  who  acquaints  one  with 
one's  self  is  the  great  beginning  of  a  very  long  matter. 

Some  days  passed,  and  she  did  not  again  encounter 
Macgillvray  nor  come  in  his  way;  but  the  mind,  which 
runs  up  and  down  the  earth  seeking  while  the  feet  halt, 
went  on  its  quest.  There  are  things  so  incomplete  in 
themselves  that  one  is  tortured  until  they  are  rounded 
by  a  finish.  From  the  fields,  the  highway,  and  the 
moors,  loomed  every  day  a  possibility  which  ended  in 
disappointment ;  her  eyes  searched  the  distance  as  she 
walked,  and  many  a  passing  peasant  was  startled  by 
her  expectant  glance  into  lifting  his  cap  reverently  to 
this  presence  of  high  quality  and  beauty.  From  no 
eyes,  however,  did  she  catch  the  critical  shaft  of  Mac- 
gillvray's,  and  this — caustic  and  cold — still  rankled  in 
her  heart.  It  is  of  the  nature  of  such  wounds  that  the 
enemy  who  gives  them  proves  the  only  physician ;  it  is 
also  in  the  nature  of  things  that,  while  many  come,  the 
one  stays  away,  and  that  frequent  hands  proffer  trashy 
friendship,  while  the  single  hand  whose  smart  has  made 
it  valuable  refrains. 

Jessamine  walked  often  somewhere  in  the  direction 
of  Dalfaber,  but  on  one  occasion — it  was  Sunday  after- 
noon—  took  that  course  more  frankly.  So  far,  she  had 


54  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

hovered  on  the  outskirts  of  the  farm,  in  the  woods  or 
on  the  moor  that  flanked  it,  not  venturing  beyond  the 
inclosure.  A  shy  dread  of  repulse  kept  canceling  her 
wish  for  an  encounter;  she  felt  the  effect  of  an  eye, 
which  can  succeed  better  than  the  law  and  the  police 
in  keeping  off  intruders  and  making  the  owner  proprie- 
tor of  house  and  land.  This  Sunday  afternoon,  how- 
ever, while  man  and  beast  reposed,  and  the  very  air 
sank  in  vitality  under  the  Sabbath  dullness,  an  urgency 
of  the  heart  got  the  better  of  more  retreating  instincts. 
She  stepped  through  the  inclosure,  and  then,  like  a 
soul  lost  beyond  the  borders  of  orthodoxy,  began  to 
wander  about  Macgillvray's  fields,  and  beside  his  rows 
of  barley  and  oats,  and  over  his  pastures,  until  at  last 
she  neared  the  cottage  itself. 

The  cottage  was  a  roomy  and  primitive  looking 
building,  a  chimney  at  either  side,  tolerable  windows, 
and  a  wide  door.  There  was  no  pretense  at  adornment 
nor  the  faintest  hint  of  a  garden ;  nevertheless  the 
place,  with  its  dark  heather  thatch,  its  grave  loneliness 
awatch  upon  an  environment  of  tumultuously  tumbled 
hills,  had  a  somber  charm,  as  though  reminiscent  of  a 
hundred  years  of  human  life  braved  out  within  its  walls 
in  the  bleak  solitude. 

Jessamine  approached ;  the  door  was  certainly  ajar, 
but  a  closed,  silent,  Sabbatarian  air,  a  dullness  as 
though  the  life  within  had  been  nipped,  affected  her 
dismally,  and  the  expectation,  escaping  from  her  heart, 
left  it  flat  enough  to  be  composed.  She  took  some 
steps  forward,  meaning  to  pass  the  cottage  and  go 
home.  At  this  point,  however,  a  dog,  with  disconcert- 
ing suddenness,  rushed  from  the  door  and  sprang  bark- 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  55 

ing  upon  her.  Jessamine,  the  more  startled  that  she 
had  just  been  lulled  into  security,  gave  a  cry,  and  in- 
creased the  beast's  excitement  by  running  a  pace  or 
two  toward  the  cottage.  Her  sharp  and  timorous  call 
brought  out  the  master  pfle-infle,  and  before  she  had 
time  to  recall  her  dignity  she  found  herself  shrinking, 
as  is  the  manner  of  women  in  fear,  close  behind  Mr. 
Colin  Macgillvray.  At  his  appearance  the  dog  changed 
his  note  to  one  of  excellent  temper,  and,  having  done 
the  mischief,  now  sniffed  round  the  pair  inquisitively 
with  a  friendly  wagging  of  the  tail. 

"Haud  oof  with  you!  Go  back!"  cried  Mr.  Macgill- 
vray, smiting  in  the  air  with  his  arm. 

Whereupon  the  collie  walked  away,  glancing  back 
round  the  corner  of  his  shoulder  as  he  went,  as  who 
would  say,  "My  feelings  suffer  from  this  rebuff." 

"The  dog  would  not  have  hurt  you,"  said  Macgill- 
vray, now  turning  to  Jessamine  and  looking  leniently 
into  her  wide-open,  startled  eyes;  "it's  just  his  way  of 
showing  joy." 

"Oh!"  returned  Jessamine,  "I  thought  he  seemed 
very  angry;  I  was  just  a  little  frightened." 

"Oh,  na,  na!  The  dog  was  not  angry.  It  will  just 
be  his  play.  But  you  will  come  in  now  and  rest  you 
awhile?" 

Macgillvray 's  eyes  were  still  lenient  while,  with  a 
very  noble  and  gracious  air,  he  pushed  the  door  open 
wider  and  signed  to  Jessamine  to  enter.  She  walked 
forward,  her  heart  still  beating,  partly  with  physical 
fear,  partly  in  amaze  at  finding  herself  precipitated  into 
the  center  of  an  event  which  she  had  intended  to  ap- 
proach with  a  prepared  mind. 


56  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

There  were  two  rooms  only  on  the  first  floor  of  the 
cottage,  but  these  were  divided  by  a  space  from  whence 
the  staircase  mounted  to  the  story  above;  beneath  the 
staircase  was  a  small  cellar.  One  of  the  two  rooms 
was  the  kitchen;  the  other,  to  which  Colin  ushered 
Miss  Halliday,  possessed  an  alcove  with  a  bed  in  it, 
and  was  a  combination  of  bed  and  sitting  room.  Colin 
placed  a  chair  for  his  guest  and  took  one  himself. 

"And  this  is  your  room?"  said  Jessamine. 

"Oh,  yes!"  answered  Colin;  "it  will  be  mine." 

As  usual,  Miss  Halliday's  mere  presence  grouped 
her  surroundings  into  a  picture.  She  sat  in  a  high- 
backed  chair,  her  head  thrown  back,  her  dark  hair 
rumpled,  and  a  lovely  lassitude  in  limbs  and  posture. 
Colin,  seated  opposite,  with  the  ease  of  a  man  at  home, 
one  arm  flung  carelessly  over  the  back  of  his  chair,  con- 
templated her  steadily.  A  touch  of  remorseful  sym- 
pathy, because  of  the  quick  rise  and  fall  of  her  breast, 
softened  his  lips,  and  when  Jessamine's  glance,  after 
wandering  round  the  room,  paused — large,  wistful, 
shy — upon  his,  he  immediately  spoke. 

"I'm  just  most  sorry,  indeed,"  said  he,  "my  dog  has 
really  frightened  you." 

"Well,  yes,"  returned  Jessamine,  "he  looked  very 
wild  and  savage,  as  though  he  meant  to  hurt  me." 

"Na,  na!  He  will  never  be  doing  any  harm  to  any- 
one. He  is  just  always  for  rushing,  but  it  means  noth- 
ing." 

"He  is  a  good  watch-dog,  at  any  rate." 

"Oh,  yes!  he's  a  good  watch-dog;  but  he's  most 
fond  of  strangers,"  said  Colin,  still  anxious  for  the  re- 
moval of  inhospitable  impressions. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  57 

"Perhaps  I  had  no  right  to  be  where  I  was?"  ven- 
tured Jessamine,  anxious  to  bring  the  conversation  to 
less  general  topics. 

"Indeed!"  cried  Macgillvray,  starting  forward  with 
a  courteous  inclination  of  the  head;  "we  are  most 
pleased  to  see  you.  We  will  be  most  glad  if  you  will 
be  coming  just  when  you  like  to  rest  you  here,  or  to 
sit  and  walk  on  the  bit  of  land." 

"Thank  you,"  returned  Jessamine. 

And  her  thanks  were  accompanied  by  a  grave,  lumi- 
nous glance  for  which  many  a  high-born  gentleman  in 
London  would  cheerfully  have  paid  a  price.  Mac- 
gillvray inclined  his  head  slightly  to  one  side  to  facili- 
tate his  quite  impersonal  observation  of  one  pleasing 
trait  the  more  in  a  pleasing  picture. 

Meanwhile,  here  as  everywhere,  the  poverty  of 
human  resource  cast  itself  upon  chatter  as  a  refuge. 
It  is  only  the  beasts  (and  possibly  the  Chinese)  who  are 
sufficiently  self-poised  to  sit  opposite  each  other  in 
Homeric  silence,  contenting  themselves  with  the  occa- 
sional embrace  of  a  stolidly  friendly  eye.  In  this 
cottage  room,  the  conversation  struggled  on  through 
the  inequalities  of  class  habit  and  class  ideas,  like  a  lop- 
sided car;  Jessamine's  alert  tongue  leaping  from  topic 
to  topic  to  find  that  upon  which  the  peasant's  would 
run  easily,  while  Colin  declined  to  become  discursive 
upon  any.  It  was  the  lights  and  touches  in  his  face 
and  manner  which  revealed  his  nature,  as  the  sun  fall- 
ing upon  a  rock  will  discover  its  secret  beauty.  He 
stood  out  from  the  triviality  of  the  conversation  with 
all  his  qualities  large,  deep,  massive.  Miss  Halliday's 
facility  in  remark  began  to  strike  him  as — for  him,  at 


5 8  A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN'. 

least — a  godless  witchcraft,  though  possibly  an  angelic 
trait  in  the  world  of  quality ;  and  as  he  made  courteous 
shift  to  reply,  he  was  troubled  with  a  haunting  recol- 
lection of  the  Fourth  Commandment,  which  bids 
men  "remember  the  Sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy."  At 
length  Jessamine,  seizing  upon  the  statement  in  pure 
nervous  hurry  to  whip  up  the  moment  out  of  this 
laggard  incapacity,  assured  him  of  her  admiration  of 
the  country  and  her  appreciation  of  the  beauty  of  the 
hills.  Whereupon  Colin  turned  his  head  and  let  his 
eyes  rest  upon  the  range  of  mountains  seen  through 
the  windows,  wearing  in  his  expression  a  deep  suffi- 
ciency of  familiar  content,  which  seemed  to  remove 
him  from  her  presence. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  he  in  his  curious  sweet  voice — "oh, 
yes,  it's  a  bonnie  country.  The  hills  look  butifully  in 
an  evening;  all  this  summer  they  really  have  been 
looking  butifully." 

That  was  his  utmost  expansiveness,  and  his  eyes,  in 
their  aloofness  from  her,  and  their  restful  familiarity 
elsewhere,  seemed  to  set  her  aside ;  she  rose  to  go, 
pained  and  baffled.  Fora  moment  she  stood  hesitat- 
ing in  the  whitewashed  cottage  room,  beautiful  and 
brilliant  as  some  strayed  rainbow  cloud,  while  he 
looked  down  upon  her.  But  nothing  altered  in  his 
balance  and  gravity,  and  she  turned  away,  an  empti- 
ness in  her  face  like  the  withdrawing  of  sun  from  a 
prison  ray.  Colin  accompanied  her  to  the  door  and 
stood  upon  the  threshold ;  she  bade  him  adieu,  and 
lifted  once  more  a  wistful  and  propitiating  eye;  but 
Colin,  his  glance  comprehensively  including  the  hills 
over  her  shoulder  as  well  as  herself,  gravely  saluted  the 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  59 

high  quality  which  had  deigned  to  visit  him,  by  plac- 
ing his  hand  to  his  forehead  and  murmuring  thanks  for 
her  condescension.  He  kept  meanwhile  an  air  of  cour- 
teous dismissal,  and  his  brow  so  proud  and  uncontami- 
nated  an  independence  that  it  left  Jessamine  the  per- 
son abashed. 

She  did  not  go  home,  but  sought  a  lonely  spot  and 
sat  down  on  the  heather  near  a  group  of  fir  trees. 
Some  demons  chuckled  derisively  in  those  regions 
which  conscience  makes  horrible.  It  is  a  discomforting 
thing  to  graciously  forsake  your  rank,  your  high  heels, 
and  your  paint  pot,  in  order  to  follow  humanity  at  the 
plow,  and  then  to  find  that  humanity  at  the  plow 
keeps  these  articles  ready  to  hand  back  to  you  with 
rigid  courtesy — putting  the  china  shepherdess  back 
in  its  right  place  on  the  shelf — before  proceeding  un- 
ruffled with  its  own  weighty  affairs. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  morning  after  her  interview  with  Macgillvray, 
Jessamine  waked  restless  and  dissatisfied.  Her  pretty 
scheme,  running  so  merrily,  along  the  ways  of  self-con- 
tent, had  met  with  something  in  the  nature  of  an  upset. 
Had  Miss  Halliday  been  living  in  London,  or  any- 
where within  call  of  a  fashionable  friend  who  might 
come  in  to  make  the  morning  hours  vapid  with  talk, 
her  temper  might  have  discharged  some  sparks;  but 
Mrs.  McKenzie's  atmosphere  and  the  necessities  of  the 
day  excluded  the  privileges  of  spleen.  As  well  be 
spiteful  in  the  front  of  a  milch  cow  as  in  the  eye  of 
Mrs.  McKenzie.  She  lived  aloof,  irradiating  kindliness 
and  vigor,  understanding  nothing  of  the  ins  and  outs 
of  sensitiveness  and  fine  feelings,  but  effacing  these 
distempers  by  a  beatific  wholesomeness.  So  that  Jes- 
samine, who  appeared  with  somber  eyes  and  brow,  and 
an  air  of  inscrutable  melancholy,  found  herself  com- 
pelled into  an  ordinary  mood,  and  was  finally  driven 
by  the  sheer  force  of  circumstances  to  help  in  the  hay- 
field. 

A  day  or  two  after,  rather  to  her  astonishment,  she 
found  herself  on  Macgillvray 's  land,  stepping  round,  as 
it  were,  to  make  inquiries  as  to  the  progress  of  his  hay. 
As  she  came  near  him  in  the  hayfield,  he  looked  up, 
desisted  from  his  labor,  lifted  his  straw  hat  courteously, 
then,  setting  the  scythe  to  the  ground,  took  a  wide 

60 


.-/    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  6r 

sweep  of  the  steel  through  the  hay,  and  carried  him- 
self by  the  strong  leisurely  movement  a  yard  or  two 
from  her.  Jessamine  shrank  back  hastily;  an  uncon- 
querable something  kept  turning  its  uncouth  back  upon 
her. 

That  evening,  she  somewhat  flagged  in  the  ardor  of 
her  application.  She  relieved  Mrs.  McKenzie  from  her 
impetuous  energy  by  going  out  for  a  walk.  Upon 
coming  back,  she  heard  unusual  sounds  issuing  from 
the  open  door  of  the  kitchen.  It  was  her  custom  to 
enter  by  the  porch,  though  her  apartments  might  be 
reached  by  another  door.  The  doctor's  counsel  had 
run  thus: 

"Return  to  simplicity  of  life,  and  do  serviceable 
work." 

And  Jessamine  very  carefully  practiced  the  maxim 
by  an  observance  as  minute  as  that  of  a  Pharisee  of 
old.  She  therefore  repudiated  the  entrance  set  apart 
for  herself,  and  took  by  choice  the  ordinary  way.  Her 
step  was  light — indeed,  curiosity  prompted  caution ; 
the  kitchen  was  rilled  for  the  moment  by  the  weird 
sound  which,  in  the  Highlands,  is  strangely  called 
singing,  and  she  reached  the  threshold  unheard,  and 
stood  there  unseen  to  look  upon  the  scene  within. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  McKenzie  sat  side  by  side;  Mrs. 
McKenzie  was  knitting,  but  she  glanced  now  and  then 
at  a  book  which  her  husband  held ;  both  were  singing. 
Little  Maysie,  their  only  child,  stood  between  her 
father's  knees,  listening;  her  round  grave  eyes  were, 
however,  fixed  in  awe  and  admiration  upon  a  fourth 
figure  who  sat  opposite.  Of  this  visitor  Jessamine 
could  see  no  more  than  one  broad  shoulder  and  a  por- 


62  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

tion  of  a  sturdy  neck  and  head,  for  he  was  seated  with 
his  back  to  the  window,  a  little  withdrawn  behind  the 
door;  but  in  him  she  at  once  recognized  Colin  Mac- 
gillvray.  There  was  one  other  figure  which  she  could 
see  entirely.  This  was  a  small  boy,  one  of  Maysie's 
numerous  companions;  he  stood  with  his  small  elbows 
folded  upon  Colin's  knee,  and  was  gazing  up  into  the 
man's  face  with  a  curiously  fearless  content. 

Jessamine  beheld  this  picture  undisturbed  for  the 
briefest  moment ;  then  Maysie  spoiled  it  by  catching 
sight  of  her  and  pointing.  The  change  was  instan- 
taneous. The  song  broke  off,  and  both  men  dropped 
their  books;  McKenzie  favored  her  with  the  smile  of 
indulgent  humor  which  was  his  usual  greeting,  Mrs. 
McKenzie  exhibited  faint  signs  of  momentary  per- 
plexity, and  Colin,  rising  from  his  seat  with  his  air  of 
defiant  respectfulness,  made  the  peasant's  salute  by 
touching  his  forehead  with  his  hand,  without  inclining 
his  perverse  head  one  inch  from  its  uprightness. 

Jessamine's  eyes  encountered  this  indifferent,  un- 
bending look;  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  a  tear  ran 
scalding  down  her  heart.  She  repaid  McKenzie's  smile 
by  a  faint  fleeting  dimple,  and  hurried  through  the 
kitchen  with  averted  face,  closing  the  inner  door 
behind  her.  Here  she  paused,  anxious  to  know  if  the 
singing  would  recommence;  it  would  have  been  inter- 
esting to  learn  if  Colin's  voice  were  rich  and  deep,  to 
suit  the  color  and  quality  of  his  eyes.  But  no!  not  a 
sound.  The  silence  of  embarrassment  enfolded  the 
kitchen,  and  before  she  reached  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
Colin's  step  crunched  the  gravel  outside  and  retreated 
from  the  house, 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  63 

Then  Jessamine  entered  her  sitting  room,  threw  off 
her  hat,  and  sat  down  by  the  unpropitiating  square 
table,  with  her  elbows  on  it  and  her  chin  in  her  hands. 

"It  is  almost,"  said  she  to  herself,  "as  though  I  had 
died  and  been  born  again — ugly." 

She  gazed  at  the  table  with  blank  eyes. 

"Who  cares  for  pretty  Jessamine?"  said  she  dis- 
mally. 

She  listened  again ;  the  hushed  song  made  a  painful 
silence  in  the  cottage,  and  the  wind  which  murmured 
round  did  not  fill  it.  Jessamine  got  up  and  wandered 
up  and  down  the  very  small  space  of  the  chamber. 

"Oh,  dear!"  said  she;  "how  real  they  are,  and  how 
impossible  to  get  inside  it !  How  they  keep  me  off, 
and  how  they  reject  me!  Oh,  dear!  I  don't  want 
elegant  trifles  any  more;  I  want  some  good,  substan- 
tial bread" 

To  one  so  accustomed  to  court  and  welcome  wher- 
ever she  moved,  whose  lightest  word  and  act  had  been 
received  with  plaudits,  the  experience  was  a  bewilder- 
ing one.  Colin  Macgillvray  was  the  chief  offender. 
She  began  to  wonder  whether  he  really  appreciated 
her  beauty ;  she  was  quite  sure  he  did  not  approve  of 
it — of  her.  That  last  thought  set  her  mind  running 
into  all  sorts  of  regions  hitherto  unexplored.  It  was  a 
much  more  severe  discipline  than  Dr.  Cornerstone's 
stern  instructions.  After  all,  that  was  a  sort  of  court — 
for  was  not  Dr.  Cornerstone  taken  up  with  her?  Now, 
Colin  ignored  her. 

Three  days  afterward  the  hay  was  gathered  in  ;  "all 
except,"  they  said,  "a  small  field  of  Macgillvray's." 

And  Jessamine,  when  the  shadows  lay  long  upon  the 


64  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

ground,  and  the  scents  of  pine  and  heather  were  warm 
in  the  air,  went  down  to  watch  the  final  carrying.  She 
seated  herself  upon  a  bank  under  a  rowan  tree  whose 
berries  showed  red  among  the  leaves,  and  watched  the 
moving  to  and  fro  of  the  figures  at  work  in  the  field. 
Only  Colin  was  there  and  a  boy  and  a  woman ;  and 
only  a  few  haycocks  remained  to  be  gathered  and  taken 
to  the  cart.  Jessamine  watched  and  waited  until  Colin 
came  and  thrust  his  fork  into  the  haycock  near  her 
side.  He  freed  one  hand,  as  he  did  so,  and  lifted  his 
cap  with  his  unaltered  air  of  courteous  indifference. 

"May  I  help?"  murmured  Jessamine  timidly. 

"Thank  you,  you  are  most  kind ;  but  we  are  all  but 
finished  now." 

The  boy  led  the  cart  up  as  he  spoke,  and  he  turned 
with  the  load  of  hay  suspended  upon  the  fork  to  pitch 
it  in ;  but  somehow  a  portion  fell  to  the  ground,  and 
Jessamine,  rising  with  a  sudden  impulse,  stooped  over 
it,  and  gathered  it  up  in  her  arms.  Macgillvray  tran- 
quilly deposited  his  share  in  the  cart,  and  then,  tossing 
aside  his  fork,  turned  to  relieve  her. 

"Thank  you,"  said  he  once  more,  as  his  brown  hands 
freed  her  from  her  burden ;  "you  are  most  kind." 

But  Jessamine  lifted  her  eyes  with  wistful  entreaty 
in  them — the  entreaty,  not  of  a  vain  girl  to  be  sexually 
flattered,  but  of  one  human  being  to  another  for  a 
recognition  of  service,  and  she  fancied  that  for  a  sec- 
ond Macgillvray 's  eye  held  her  at  a  less  distant  range 
than  before.  It  was  only  for  the  briefest  instant ;  be- 
fore the  ripple  of  pleasure  had  time  to  rise  in  her  heart 
he  was  standing  by  his  cart  again,  his  back  toward  her, 
and  was  turning  his  horse's  head  away  from  the  field. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  65 

The  hay  was  all  lifted,  and  Jessamine  was  left  alone  in 
the  sunny  place,  with  thoughts  that  dimly  yearned 
after  austerity  and  goodness. 

After  this,  during  the  next  three  weeks,  her  encoun- 
ters with  Colin  became  frequent.  With  the  hay  sea- 
son a  habit  had  been  formed  of  wandering  about  Dal- 
faber.  When  she  met  the  owner  she  would  pause 
with  a  pretty  deference,  the  color  in  her  cheek  and  the 
wistful  light  in  her  eye,  and  ask  some  question  about 
farming;  as  these  inquiries  were  at  least  to  the  point, 
he  would  find  leisure  to  stop  and  to  reply  to  them 
carefully.  Sometimes  a  momentary  relaxation  of  his 
unbending  manner  recalled  the  faint  beat  of  pleasure 
in  the  hayfield,  but  oftener  beneath  his  courtesy 
lurked  sturdy  defiance.  Her  acquaintance  with  the 
McKenzies  had  taken  a  simple  cordiality  of  condition 
from  the  first,  but  her  acquaintance  with  Macgillvray 
was  as  a  long  journey  upon  an  undiscovered  winding 
road  that  has  to  be  conquered  by  inches,  and  where, 
each  corner  rounded,  the  same  figure  walks  before,  the 
back  toward  one  and  the  face  averted. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ONE  afternoon  Jessamine  had  been  tempted  to  take 
a  longer  walk  than  usual,  and  found  herself  some  miles 
away  from  home,  over-tired,  and  dragging  exhaustedly 
along  the  highway  alone.  Moreover,  the  sky  threat- 
ened storm.  While  in  this  evil  case  she  heard  behind 
the  sound  of  wheels,  and,  turning  round,  saw  Macgill- 
vray  approaching  in  an  open  trap.  As  he  came  up  he 
lifted  his  hat,  and  Jessamine  signed  to  him  to  stop. 

"Are  you  going  back  home,  Mr.  Macgillvray?" 
asked  she. 

"Oh,  yes;  I  am  going  to  Dalfaber." 

"I  am  very  tired.  Would  you  be  so  kind  as  to  let 
me  drive  with  you?" 

"Indeed,  Miss  Halliday,  and  I  will  be  most  pleased 
whatever,"  responded  Colin  with  his  most  courteous 
air. 

Jessamine  got  into  the  vehicle  by  his  side.  It  was 
a  very  common  dogcart,  ill-hung  and  of  preposterous 
height,  and  the  horse  that  pulled  it  was  an  imperfectly 
broken-in  farm  beast,  that  started  and  shied  on  every 
small  occasion.  Nevertheless,  she  nestled  down  by  the 
driver  with  a  sense  of  well-being,  thrusting  her  hands 
under  the  rough  rug  which  he  folded  carefully  over  her 
because  the  air  was  chill. 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  had  an  opportunity  of 
really  long  continued  converse  with  Macgillvray,  and 

66 


A    STPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  67 

in  all  these  weeks  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  but 
nibbled  at  the  outside  crust  of  intercourse;  and  now, 
while  the  horse  jogged  on  at  a  lurching  trot,  she  feared 
that  he  was  disposed  for  silence. 

"There  is  storm  in  the  sky,"  she  ventured  at  last. 

"Ay,"  answered  Colin;  "friend  or  foe?" 

And  as  he  spoke  he  leaned  forward,  the  reins  hang- 
ing loosely  in  his  hands,  and  looked  skyward.  The 
horse  instantly  dropped  into  a  walk.  Jessamine  seized 
the  opportunity  of  Macgillvray's  altered  attitude  to 
observe  more  deliberately  the  firm  line  of  his  profile, 
the  composed  folding  of  his  lips,  the  steady  uplift  of 
his  eyelid,  and  the  clear  depth  of  his  eye. 

This  was  not  an  intellectual  face,  but  it  was  a  strong 
one,  with  the  unconquerable  quality  of  mass.  His 
proximity  brought  with  it  impressions  of  warmth, 
wholesomeness,  and  power,  and  his  elusive  silence 
piqued  curiosity  at  once  by  a  denial  and  a  promise. 
After  so  much  clever  or  vapid  chatter,  how  this  reti- 
cence spoke  to  her  inmost  mind ! 

"Friend  or  foe?"  repeated  Jessamine  inquiringly. 

"A  body  gets  thinking  whiles,"  said  Colin,  still  star- 
ing upward. 

"Yeb,"  returned  Jessamine. 

He  glanced  down  at  her,  and  pointed  to  the  sky  with 
his  whip. 

"We  hoe  and  dig  and  drive  the  plow,"  said  he,  "but 
3'on  is  the  Great  Tiller.  Morning  by  morning  we  go 
out  to  search  his  face,  and  then  we  must  be  waiting  on 
his  smile  or  frown." 

"Yes." 

"It  will  be  a  strange  thing  to  work  so  hard  and  be 


68  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

so  helpless.  Whiles  a  man's  heart  feels  sore  in  his 
body  when  he  stands  by  the  cornfields,  to  see  the  grain 
beaten  with  the  smiting  of  the  showers  until  the  yellow 
heads  lie  low  on  the  bit  land.  And  then,  come  even- 
tide, the  clouds  open  and  the  sunshine  flies  and  sets 
the  hills  laughing  under  it ;  and  though  the  grain  lies 
beaten,  the  sunshine  wins." 

"Wins?" 

"Ay;  wins  the  soreness  from  the  heart." 

"Is  that  because  it  is  beautiful?" 

"Oh,  yes,  because  it  is  butiful.  The  smile  runs  over 
the  heart  and  makes  a  body  think." 

"Does  it?" 

"Oh,  yes;  it  will  be  like  a  book  with  thoughts  in  it." 

"But  you  get  tired  of  always  working  and  always 
waiting." 

Colin  looked  over  toward  his  horse's  ears  with  a 
smile. 

"Ay,  a  body  gets  tired;  but  the  sky  will  not  be 
always  against  us.  And  when  the  weather's  grand  it 
works  for  ten." 

"Still,  you  are  obliged  to  be  constantly  doing  the 
same  thing  from  year's  end  to  year's  end." 

"Oh,  yes,  just  so,"  returned  Colin  quietly. 

"And  do  you  not  wish  for  something  different?" 

An  odd  momentary  light  shot  into  Colin's  face  from 
some  inward  source. 

"Whiles — a  body  dreams,"  said  he. 

"And  then  you  want  to  get  away,  to  do  something 
different,"  said  Jessamine,  leaping  to  probable  conclu- 
sions. 

"No;  it  suffices,"  answered  the  man. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS  WOMAN.  69 

"What  suffices?"  asked  Jessamine,  discontentedly 
closing  up  her  idea. 

"The  dreaming  is  enough,"  repeated  Macgillvray. 
"It  will  be  a  wonder  where  the  thoughts  will  be  com- 
ing from  that  enter  a  man's  head,  and  how — such 
strangers  to  one  another  and  so  uncalled-for  as  they 
will  be — they  will  just  end  always  in  the  same  thing." 

"And  how  do  they  end?" 

"In  a  thankfulness  that  a  man's  way  is  appointed. 
And  in  finding  that,  after  all,  it  looks  butifully." 

"Oh !"  said  Jessamine.  "Well,  yes,  perhaps,  after 
all,  that  is  the  best ;  perhaps  it  is  beautiful." 

"Oh,  yes,"  returned  Colin  with  delight,  "it  will  be 
butiful.  The  shining  that  comes  into  a  body's  mind 
from  within  is  a  guide,  and  makes  the  limits  of  his  path 
plain.  And  yet ' 

"Yet  what?" 

The  slow  rare  smile  hovered  again  about  his  lips. 
He  flicked  several  flies  off  his  horse  as  he  stared 
reflectively  at  it  before  answering. 

"If  we  bide  a  wee,  who  knows?"  said  he  as  though 
to  himself. 

He  spoke  so  inwardly  that  the  words  were  as  the 
shutting  of  a  lid  over  some  secret  treasure  of  the  spirit. 
Jessamine  was  left  on  the  outside  of  the  closed  casket. 
She  wanted  to  undo  the  lock  and  to  see  that  which  he 
would  not  display,  and  rash  desire  precipitated  her  into 
indiscretion. 

"Do  you  ever  talk  like  this  to  your  friend  Mr. 
McKenzie?"  asked  she. 

"No,"  returned  Colin  shortly,  a  light  alarm  whipping 
the  dreams  out  of  his  face. 


70  A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN. 

He  flicked  his' horse  sharply  over  the  ears  as  he  an- 
swered, and  tightened  the  reins,  and  the  beast  resumed 
its  trot. 

Jessamine  bit  her  lip  in  regretful  vexation.  All 
her  life  "the  beautiful  Miss  Halliday"  had  blotted 
out  the  landscape  for  her,  and  it  had  been  so  sweet 
and  new  a  thing  to  be  forgotten  while  this  man 
revealed  one  corner  of  the  undiscovered  treasures  of 
his  mind. 

After  this  they  drove  on  for  some  distance  until 
they  encountered  a  flock  of  sheep,  which  were  being 
driven  along  the  road  to  new  pastures;  they  were 
going  in  an  opposite  direction,  and  had  traveled  for 
many  miles  and  many  days;  the  shepherds  looked  tired 
and  exasperated,  and  the  dogs  were  wearying  of  the 
distinction  of  their  office.  Colin,  careful  of  adding  to 
labor  because  he  knew  the  meaning  of  labor,  drew  up 
against  the  side  of  the  road ;  it  took  several  minutes 
for  the  flock  to  pass,  and  then  he  drove  on  again  for 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  The  railroad — a  single 
country  line — at  this  point  ran  parallel  to  and  close 
upon  the  road.  Colin  suddenly  brought  his  horse 
again  to  a  standstill,  and  rose  up  from  his  seat. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Jessamine. 

"That  will  be  a  sheep  from  the  flock  we  have  just 
met,"  returned  Macgillvray,  pointing  along  the  line 
with  his  whip.  "The  poor  silly  beastie  has  strayed 
away,  and  is  running  on  the  railroad." 

"Oh,  dear!"  said  Jessamine,  standing  up  too,  to  look 
in  her  turn. 

"And  there  should  be  a  train  coming  soon,"  added 
Colin,  taking  out  his  watch. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  71 

"Oh,  dear  me!"  cried  Jessamine,  "it  will  be  killed! 
Can't  we  save  it?" 

"We  will  be  trying  to,  whatever,"  answered  Colin, 
jumping  from  the  dogcart. 

When  on  the  road  he  hesitated  for  a  second,  and 
glanced  up  at  Jessamine.  The  glance  was  doubtful, 
but  the  air  with  which  he  turned  away  was  unmis- 
takably disparaging. 

"I  can  hold  the  reins,"  said  she,"  mistaking  his  idea. 

"Oh,  yes,"  replied  the  man ;  "but  the  horse  will 
stand  well  enough." 

Then  he  climbed  the  embankment  and  ran  on  until 
he  overtook  the  sheep.  The  only  result  was  that  the 
animal  slipped  past  him  and  raced  along  the  path  of 
peril  in  the  opposite  direction.  This  happened  more 
than  once,  and  at  last  he  stood  still,  looking  vexed  and 
baffled. 

Jessamine  meanwhile  had  felt  the  spur  of  that  single 
disparaging  glance. 

"Mr.  Macgillvray,"  she  called  from  the  dogcart, 
"cannot  I  help  you?" 

Macgillvray,  from  his  place  on  the  embankment, 
once  more  surveyed  the  slim  and  cultivated  grace  of 
her  figure  as  she  stood  up  in  the  trap ;  his  estimate  set 
her  obviously  at  nought,  and  he  said  nothing.  But 
she  jumped  out  of  the  dogcart,  climbed  the  embank- 
ment, and  stood  by  his  side,  for  his  look  smarted  in 
her  heart. 

"I  might  stand  here,"  said  she,  making  the  proposi- 
tion timidly,  "while  you  try  and  drive  it  back  once 
more." 

"That   will   do   it,"  returned   Macgillvray  cheerily. 


72  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"It  is  most  kind  of  you.  It  is  bound  to  jump  down  if 
there  will  be  one  of  us  on  either  side.  You  will  be 
standing  here,  and  will  be  waving  your  arms  and  shout- 
ing if  it  comes  your  way." 

Having  made  this  proposition,  and  without  waiting 
for  a  reply,  he  ran  off  again,  leaving  her  with  his  com- 
mand  upon  her  conscience.  She  was  considerably 
startled  at  the  situation,  but,  nevertheless,  stood  where 
he  had  directed,  her  arms  open  and  ready  to  wave  (like 
any  automaton  scarecrow),  and  her  lips  parted  ready 
to  shout.  Colin  had  got  some  two  hundred  yards  dis- 
tant, and  the  game  began.  The  sheep  proved  sillier 
than  is  even  usual ;  it  ran  up  and  down  between  them, 
but  clung  to  the  line.  At  last  it  made  a  determined 
rush  toward  Jessamine,  and  she,  being  inwardly  fright- 
ened (for,  though  small,  it  had  horns),  instead  of  dash- 
ing at  it  with  such  outcry  as  she  could  make,  shrank 
back  out  of  the  way,  drawing  her  skirts  together,  and 
letting  it  get  past  to  the  line  beyond.  A  shout  from 
Macgillvray  carried  a  note  of  derision ;  sooner  than 
tolerate  it,  she  recalled  her  courage,  tore  after  the 
sheep  at  her  utmost  speed,  got  in  front  of  it  again,  and 
drove  it  back  toward  him  with  desperate  bravery.  It 
began  to  be  really  exciting. 

It  was  the  first  time  Jessamine  had  tasted  real  com- 
radeship with  a  man.  Comradeship  is  impossible 
where  sex  is  predominant,  and  in  the  refined  world 
which  she  had  forsaken  sex  stands  opposite  to  sex,  the 
stronger  with  the  stirrings  of  an  exhausted  sensuality, 
the  weaker  comporting  itself  as  a  rechercht  morsel 
which  knows  its  price.  But  here  all  was  changed. 
This  stalwart  peasant  saw  her  only  as  a  serviceable 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  73 

human  being;  he  shouted  orders  in  a  peremptory  tone 
as  he  ran  hither  and  thither,  and  she  made  every  effort 
to  obey  them,  sending  back  shrill  retorts  when  neces- 
sary, her  voice  forsaking,  in  the  exigency  of  the 
moment,  that  sweet  lowness  which  is  an  excellent  thing 
in  drawing  rooms. 

All  this  rush  and  scramble  was  a  matter  of  a  few 
minutes.  Suddenly  an  electric  something  flashed  into 
Jessamine's  face  and  changed  it.  In  her  look  and 
movements  great  effort  had  hitherto  been  discernible, 
but  now  a  vivid  uncontrollable  spontaneity  animated 
her.  Her  quick  eye  had  seen  the  expected  train 
approaching  behind  Macgillvray,  and  at  the  same 
moment  she  saw  that,  occupied  with  running  and 
shouting,  he  heard  nothing.  He  was  about  fifty  yards 
distant  from  her,  and  at  the  instant  of  her  discovery, 
abandoning  without  a  shadow  of  hesitation  both  the 
sheep  and  herself,  she  dashed  forward  at  him  along  the 
line,  her  arms  wildly  outstretched,  and  a  shriek  of 
warning  upon  her  lips.  It  was  a  swift,  unpremedi- 
tated, and  scarcely  conscious  action.  She  came  back 
to  a  more  normal  state  to  find  herself  being  snatched 
by  Macgillvray  from  the  embankment,  the  sheep  tum- 
bling down  headlong-beside  them,  while  the  train  flew 
past  with  horrid  din. 

"Why,  what  ails  the  lass?"  cried  Macgillvray. 

His  rude  grasp  was  still  upon  her;  her  slight  figure 
yielded,  and  her  cheek  and  hair  rested  against  the 
rough  texture  of  his  coat.  When  he  saw  her  eyes  close 
and  a  quiver  distort  her  lips,  he  forgot  the  distinction 
of  rank  which  hitherto  he  had  been  so  careful  to  record 
in  the  least  shade  of  his  bearing,  and  thought  only  how 


74  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

tones  of  the  voice  and  the  homely  pressure  of  firm 
muscle  may  reassure  human  terror.  The  sheep  mean- 
while began  to  tear  up  the  road  in  the  right  direction, 
and  the  train  disappeared. 

"Why,  what  will  be  ailing  her?"  he  repeated  with 
emotion.  "She  will  be  looking  as  frightened  as  the 
poor  beastie  itself.  It  will  be  too  much  running  for 
her,  after  all.  Oh,  I  am  most  sorry !  I  am  most 
sorry !" 

"Oh,  no!  no!  no!"  cried  Jessamine,  opening  her 
eyes  and  giving  a  great  sigh.  "I  thought  you  didn't 
see  the  train !  Oh,  I  thought  you  didn't  see  it !  I 
thought—  Oh,  I  don't  know  what  I  thought!" 

And  then  "scales,"  as  it  were,  fell  from  her  eyes. 
She  knew  that  there  was  no  scare,  neither  had  there 
been  danger  or  alarm.  Suddenly  she  realized  that  her 
terror  had  been  the  creation  of  inexperience,  and  that 
Macgillvray,  treating  her  as  one  would  treat  a  foolish, 
terrified  child,  was  holding  her  in  a  close  embrace. 
She  snatched  herself  from  his  arms,  the  side  which  he 
had  so  rudely  pressed,  blushing  unseen  with  angry 
shame,  and  stood  defiantly  apart,  fury  flecking  her 
cheeks  and  dropping  a  veil  upon  her  eyes. 

Macgillvray,  when  she  withdrew  from  him,  let  his 
arms  fall,  and  stood  contemplating  her  with  an  aspect 
of  quiet  wonder.  Upon  this  at  last  a  pucker  of  amuse- 
ment stole.  It  began  to  dawn  upon  him  that  this 
slight  whiff  of  humanity  had  supposed  his  own  large 
and  vigorous  person  to  be  in  danger,  and  had  flung 
herself  forward  to  save  him.  It  tickled  all  his  heart 
and  filled  his  whole  nature  with  ecstatic  laughter;  yet 
so  gentle  and  tender  an  expression  crossed  the  mighty 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  75 

amusement  of  his  smile  that  it  went  far  to  win  him 
forgiveness. 

"Oh,  no,"  he  said;  "oh,  no.  I'm  all  right" — his 
voice  disparaged  himself — "I'm  all  right,  whatever." 

Then  he  turned  to  his  horse,  and  vaguely  touched 
the  harness  about  its  nose.  After  which  he  took  the 
reins  suddenly  into  his  hand. 

"We  will  be  going  home  now,"  said  he  gravely. 
"The  sheep  is  safe,  and  it  is  all  well  over." 

Jessamine,  still  furious  and  still  shivering,  found  no 
method  by  which  to  assert  her  outraged  dignity.  The 
mere  sense  of  mass  in  the  nature  of  this  man  compelled 
her;  she  felt  rather  than  saw  the  tranquil  expectation 
of  his  eye,  and  her  resources  ran  down  to  nothing. 
With  a  completely  subdued  air  she  got  in  by  his  side, 
and  they  drove  off  in  silence. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  thing  discriminated  from  all  else  is  the  point  of 
danger.  Ever  since  the  coming  of  Miss  Jessamine 
Halliday  among  them,  Macgillvray  had  felt  her  differ- 
ence from  anything  he  had  seen  before  with  the  inten- 
sity of  a  dumbly  artistic  nature;  he  was  profoundly 
aware  of  her  beauty,  he  knew  it  to  the  slightest  ex- 
pressive turn  of  her  head,  and  the  willful  manner  of 
the  smallest  of  the  tresses  about  her  brow.  It  was 
only  the  balance  of  his  mind  which  kept  his  feet  firmly 
gripped  upon  his  own  standpoint ;  the  rock,  however 
much  the  light  plays  tricks  with  it,  is  still  a  rock,  and 
though  a  mute  poetry  clung  about  him,  and  though 
gentleness  and  sweetness  grew,  lichenlike,  upon  him, 
the  sturdier  qualities  which  had  disturbed  Miss  Halli- 
day's  conclusions  were  the  essential  matter.  So  that, 
just  as  he  turned  a  face  of  unbroken  patience  to  the 
buffets  of  the  climate  under  which  he  toiled,  he  could 
confront  this  will-o'-the-wisp  loveliness,  whose  somber 
eyes  cried  their  own  warning,  by  the  inward  power 
which  he  possessed  of  reticence  over  his  own  thought. 
Our  practiced  virtues  marshal  themselves  when  the 
tug  of  trial  comes. 

Here,  dull  though  it  might  be,  was  his  road,  and  no- 
where else;  such  a  man  and  no  other  was  he;  and  not 
an  inch  would  he  budge  from  his  estimate  of  himself 
and  his  surroundings,  but  would  keep  his  everyday 

76 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  77 

relation  to  dry  facts  undisturbed,  damming  up  the 
surging  element  of  the  imagination  with  the  superb 
pride  of  common  sense. 

It  was  on  the  evening  after  the  incident  on  the  rail- 
road that  this  attitude  was  for  the  first  time  disturbed. 
That  night  he  sat  in  his  cottage  with  his  head  in  his 
hands.  He  could  not  control  the  spark  that  seemed 
to  run  from  his  throat  to  his  heart  and  burn  there 
every  time  he  remembered  the  manner  in  which  she 
had  risked  herself  in  absurd  fears  for  him ;  he  could 
not  rid  himself  of  a  phantom  pressure  against  his  side, 
of  an  enfolded  something  within  his  arms,  of  every 
slight  shade  of  the  moment's  sensations  which,  unno- 
ticed at  the  time  (for  his  grasp  of  her  had  been  rude 
and  unconsidered),  now  returned  and  settled  upon  him 
as  birds  come  home  at  eventide  to  roost.  Outside  the 
hills,  which  from  childhood  had  reached  him  the  help 
of  their  tranquillity,  lay  in  the  eternal  sameness  of 
their  profound  and  beautiful  peace;  he  scarcely  dared 
lift  his  glance  toward  them,  so  conscious  was  he  that 
his  own  eyes  were  changed. 

At  last  he  rose,  and  went  out  to  stand  on  the  thresh- 
old of  his  home ;  he  pressed  his  hand  upon  his  brow 
and  eyes,  and  then  his  glance  traveled  slowly  and 
deliberately  over  the  stony,  meager  land  upon  which  for 
a  century  his  fathers  before  him  and  he  himself  at  last 
had  toiled  in  stubborn  patience,  and  from  which  annu- 
ally they  had  taken  Nature's  niggard  reward.  He  sur- 
veyed his  six  poor  fields — the  barley  and  the  oats,  the 
turnip  and  potato  drills,  the  scant  rough  pasture — long 
and  steadily.  The  herdboy  drove  his  cows  to  the 
shed  and  the  calves  gamboled  beside  them ;  the  lad 


7  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

shouted  as  he  went  to  the  fowls  which  had  got  into  the 
oatfield ;  some  doves  wheeled  from  the  roof  of  his 
barn ;  the  smoke  poured  down  from  the  ill-built  chim- 
ney over  the  side  of  the  house ;  near  at  hand  was  a 
stack  of  peat,  and  there  a  heap  of  manure;  two  horses 
cropped  heather  in  the  hollows;  and,  close  by,  his  old 
peasant  father,  in  greasy  clothes  and  with  smoke- 
stained  face,  crept  slowly  about,  prodding  at  the  earth 
with  the  staff  in  his  hand,  as  though  unable  to  wean 
himself  from  a  habit  of  patient  interrogation  of  its 
stony  surface.  All  these  things  Colin  looked  at  with 
a  consciously  deliberate  gaze,  teaching  himself  once 
more  what  manner  of  man  he  was.  And  then  he 
remembered  with  infinite  relief  that  the  next  day  was 
the  Sabbath. 

When  the  sun  crept  next  morning  into  Jessamine's 
bedroom  and  laid  a  beam  like  a  sword  across  her 
breast,  she  opened  her  eyes  sufficiently  to  pass  into  a 
waking  dream,  but  not  enough  to  gather  about  her 
those  feints  and  evasions  under  which  she  had  been 
taught  to  drive  Nature  into  cover.  She  lay,  her  eyes 
shining  between  her  lashes,  conscious  only  of  warmth 
and  well-being,  and  for  the  moment  as  bare  to  feeling 
as  any  pagan  girl.  The  feeling  was  like  a  dream,  and 
the  dream  was  a  memory.  At  first  her  mind  recalled 
Macgillvray's  words  and  played  round  them,  bestowing 
fanciful  meanings;  then  his  rude  forceful  pressure 
returned  again  upon  her  slender  figure  with  an  alluring 
yet  terrifying  sweetness ;  from  the  chaotic  web  of  light 
and  shade  in  the  room  his  face  rekindled  in  its  kind 
solicitude ;  and  lower  than  the  obvious  blowing  of  the 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  79 

wind  outside  was  the  tender  emotion  of  his  voice  in 
her  ear. 

The  next  moment  the  sun,  escaping  more  completely 
from  the  clouds,  smote  her  upon  the  face  with  another 
ray  which  actually  wakened  her;  she  started  up  in  bed, 
and,  setting  her  feet  upon  the  floor,  stood  with  her 
dark  hair  tumbling  in  disheveled  waves  to  her  knees, 
an  angry  spark  in  her  eye  and  a  frown  upon  her  brow. 

She  could  hardly  have  distinguished  whether  it  was 
against  Macgillvray  or  herself  that  her  wrath  was 
pointed. 

It  was  Sunday,  and  Sunday  with  the  McKenzies  was 
a  scene  of  dullness. 

Jessamine's  sitting  room  was  an  uncompromising 
chamber,  a  prim  square  place,  in  which  a  Puritan  under 
the  Stuarts  might  have  sat  nursing  his  rage  against  the 
world  and  human  nature.  It  had  for  sole  adornment 
upon  the  walls  a  map,  not  of  the  country,  but  of  the 
Calvinistic  scheme,  drawn  out  in  diagrams  for  the 
assistance  of  the  believing  few  and  the  terror  of  the  lax 
many :  at  the  left-hand  corner  of  the  map,  in  a  melan- 
choly ellipse,  the  damned  went  forth  to  flames  and 
worms;  at  the  right-hand  corner,  in  a  no  less  sorrowful 
shape,  the  elect  marched  out  to  thrones  and  psalms. 
Beneath  this  stern  relic  Jessamine  sat,  recalling  all  the 
defenses  of  society  against  spontaneity,  and  pinching 
the  heart  out  of  her  timid  bit  of  nature. 

The  fascination  of  the  life  between  Drynock  and 
Dalfaber  had  lain  in  the  element  of  resistance  which 
met  her  upon  every  side.  Had  she  been  flattered  and 
easily  accepted,  it  is  probable  she  would  have  sickened 
of  her  experiment  before  this,  and  have  returned 


8o  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN". 

repentant  to  the  bosom  of  Aunt  Arabella.  But  no 
second-rate  lady  had  ever  struggled  more  ardently  to 
get  into  a  first-rate  aristocratic  drawing  room  than  had 
Jessamine  to  penetrate  into  this  inner  life  of  the  sturdy 
Highland  peasant,  and  hitherto  she  had  failed.  Fail- 
ure meant  pique,  and  pique  gave  zest  to  higher  motives. 
It  was  not  so  much,  she  felt,  the  individuals  that 
repulsed  her  as  their  common  reality  of  life.  This 
reality  in  them  appeared  to  reject  her  as  inevitably  as 
a  healthy  tissue  will  reject  a  morbid  growth. 

But  had  the  taste  of  it  which  she  had  just  procured 
agreed  with  her?  What  was  the  price  of  becoming  as 
real  as  these  wholesome  Highlanders,  and  bundling  the 
host  of  fictions  and  fastidiousnesses,  in  which  she  had 
been  bred,  out  of  doors? 

Ah,  that  price !  The  fascination  of  this  genuine  sim- 
plicity and  naturalness  lay  possibly  only  on  the  exterior 
surface,  and  might  be  lost  if  she  penetrated  too  far. 
Indeed,  with  what  unlooked-for  dangers  might  not  fur- 
ther discovery  be  accompanied,  and  with  what  sur- 
prises !  Something  in  the  memory  of  that  rude,  firm 
grasp  of  Macgillvray's  arms  upon  her  was  fraught  with 
terror;  his  simplicity  and  directness  were  in  themselves 
an  alarm,  so  brusque  was  he,  yet  so  tender. 

"I  am  very,  very  angry!"  said  Jessamine. 

And  even  as  she  said  it  the  moment  came  back  in 
such  strong,  appealing  sweetness  that  it  overwhelmed 
the  wrath.  Thus  one  thought,  with  harelike  cunning, 
doubles  on  another  that  pursues  it. 

"My  God!"  murmured  the  girl,  with  her  hand  over 
her  eyes,  in  an  inexplicable  medley  of  emotion  and  in 
very  real  fear. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAbr.  81 

Being  Sunday,  Jessamine  was  banished  all  day  to 
the  parlor.  She  wished  the  McKenzies  were  not  such 
rigid  Sabbath-keepers,  and  that  she  could  have  sur- 
rounded herself  with  the  cheerful  atmosphere  of  the 
kitchen,  and  broken  the  monotony  by  activity  with 
pots  and  pans,  for  her  restlessness  increased.  As  it 
was,  she  had  no  resource  save  reading,  so  she  took  out 
a  novel  from  the  bookcase.  It  was  a  book  considered 
by  the  sick  nurses  of  propriety  as  eminently  suitable 
to  the  virgin  mind.  The  morning  dragged  away,  the 
afternoon  came,  and  Jessamine  closed  the  book  with  a 
sense  of  nausea. 

"Something  has  gone  wrong  with  this  author,"  said 
she;  "I  used  to  like  her.  All  this  talk  of  duty  and 
good  manners  now  seems  to  me  sickly  and  rotten.  I 
don't  think  Dr.  Cornerstone  would  approve  of  it. 
I  even  believe  he  would  call  it  'invalidish.' " 

She  threw  it  aside  and  went  out  into  the  wholesome 
air  and  sunshine.  As  she  put  her  hat  on  she  told  her- 
self that  Macgillvray  was  not  in  her  mind,  yet  she 
took  the  way  to  Dalfaber.  Instead,  however,  of  pass- 
ing the  cottage,  she  walked  down  to  the  loch,  and  sat 
upon  the  bank  to  watch  the  flow  and  sport  of  the 
ripples.  About  her  spread  the  fields  of  barley  and  of 
oats;  she  looked  on  them  as  Colin  had  done  the  night 
before,  yet  with  different  eyes;  already  the  barley 
ripened  on  the  stalk,  and  she  knew  that  the  harvesting 
must  begin.  Then,  again,  as  Colin  had  done,  she 
looked  to  the  hills;  the  afternoon  light  pinked  out 
every  bush  and  rocky  angle,  and  deepened  the  shade 
in  the  crevices,  and  burned  into  the  tints,  so  that  the 
hues  of  the  heather  became  more  roseate  and  the  grass 


82  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

and  mosses  greener,  and  flames  of  color  stole  like  still 
fire  hither  and  thither;  a  delicious  undertone  of  flap- 
ping water,  scarcely  heard  and  yet  apparent,  lulled  her 
ear;  the  wind  was  in  the  trees,  but  not  on  her;  the  sun 
flung  light  and  shade,  as  seed  scattered  from  a  sower's 
hand,  upon  the  loch,  and  the  clouds  (beautiful  players) 
moved,  floated,  changed,  catching  the  light  and  hiding 
it,  throwing  it  over  the  hills  and  withdrawing  it,  with 
the  noiselessness  of  serene  nature,  the  great  sweet 
sport  of  universal  beauty  at  one  with  itself,  content. 

Jessamine  looked  and  listened.  All  day  she  had 
been  trying  to  goad  into  activity  the  small  fry  of  con- 
ventionality, but  the  effort  died  out;  she  fell  instead 
under  a  grave  and  strange  presentiment.  For  there 
crept  upon  her  mind  the  dim  consciousness  of  a  differ- 
ence in  herself;  it  lay  there  like  a  weight,  with  the 
heaviness  of  an  unborn  child.  But,  also,  it  was  accom- 
panied with  a  sense  of  physical  well-being,  of  oneness 
with  the  very  heather  on  which  she  sat,  so  that  she 
stretched  her  bare  hands  out  and  lifted  her  unveiled 
face  to  the  sunshine  and  the  sweet  blowing  of  the  wind. 
And  that  vague  pleasurable  emotion  which  had  wak- 
ened with  her  in  the  unguarded  morning  hours  returned 
thrivingly  in  the  sunshine. 

Suddenly  from  the  west,  like  a  trumpet  call,  shot  up 
a  red  flame,  and  lit  a  beacon  upon  the  hills.  Jessa- 
mine shook  off  her  dream,  rose  to  her  feet,  and  took 
her  way  back  to  Macgillvray's  land.  With  more  active 
movement  a  buzzing  of  discomforting  ideas  returned. 
She  pictured  the  peasant  as  coarsely  and  consciously 
reminiscent  of  yesterday's  occurrence,  and  portrayed 
to  the  eye  of  her  mind  the  offensive  smile  with  which 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  83 

he  might  greet  her.  The  blood  flecked  her  cheek,  and 
again  a  spark  was  in  her  eye;  she  made  ready  such 
weapons  as  she  judged  would  tell.  On  gaining  the  top 
of  the  slope  from  which  Macgillvray's  cottage  looked 
down,  she  beheld  him  approaching  at  a  distance.  He 
came  through  a  narrow  path  in  a  field  of  oats ;  his  collie 
ran  to  meet  him ;  the  shrubby  birch  wood  flanked  the 
field  in  a  half  circle;  there  was  no  other  figure  in  sight. 

Jessamine  walked  toward  him  firmly  and  deliber- 
ately. She  meant  to  incline  her  head  with  the  indiffer- 
ence which  had  been  in  the  old  life  her  daily  practice, 
and  which  was  of  all  things  the  most  fitting  in  the  man- 
ner of  a  high-born  lady  toward  a  rustic.  Her  lips, 
touching  each  other  without  any  grimace  of  firmness, 
yet  held  the  onlooker  distant,  and  when,  as  Colin  came 
near,  she  raised  her  eyes,  their  shafts  were  icy. 

Here,  however,  the  Unexpected  tripped  her  up. 

The  face  her  glance  swept  contained,  as  she  saw  at 
once,  no  hint  of  consciousness,  nor  of  any  recollection 
which  was  touched  with  levity.  The  man's  eyes  were 
raised  and  onlooking;  a  serious  gentleness  lay  upon  his 
lips;  his  brow  had  its  old  aloofness.  The  impressions 
of  the  Sabbath  evening  service  had  not  passed  from 
him  ;  he  had  from  that  sparse  sowing  reaped  richly  of 
his  own  spirituality,  and  he  carried  still  about  him  his 
own  thoughts.  So  that  Jessamine's  prepared  demeanor 
stumbled,  as  it  were,  against  the  massive  unprepared- 
ness  of  a  preoccupied  mind.  She  received — even  be- 
fore her  own  condescending  little  gesture  was  ready — 
the  courteous  dismissal  of  Macgillvray's  hat-lift  and 
the  grave  glance  of  his  eyes  in  her  direction.  Then  he 
relapsed  into  meditation  and  passed  on. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  small  hours  of  Monday  morning  were  washed 
with  showers.  When  Colin  opened  his  cottage  door, 
the  clouds  had  cleared  and  the  sun  shone;  but  a  fra- 
grant smell  of  rain  lingered  in  the  air,  and  a  grateful 
moisture  intensified  the  hues  of  the  heather,  the 
myriad  tints  and  flash  and  flame  of  color. 

"It  will  rain  again  before  noon,"  said  Colin,  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  clear  hue  of  a  distant  hill,  behind  which  a 
small  but  ominous  tail  of  cloud  streamed  up  into  the 
ether. 

"Ay!"  said  old  Rorie,  staring  about  with  open 
mouth  to  supplement  the  dimness  of  his  eyes. 

"Lad,  are  ye  remembering  how  ye  promised  John 
McKenzie  to  take  the  cart  up  to  Drynock?"  called 
Mrs.  Macgillvray,  a  woman  with  a  voice  sharpened  by 
retrospective  grievances. 

"I'm  not  forgetting,"  returned  Colin. 

And  he  stepped  out  on  the  moor  and  went  toward 
the  fields,  his  head  up,  his  brow  stern  with  some  tena- 
cious resolve.  But  his  eyes  were  soft  as  they  followed 
the  long  lines  of  the  oatfields,  the  green  still  faintly 
sprinkled  amid  the  gold,  and  the  blades  bowed  with 
the  heaviness  of  ripening,  tawny  red. 

When  the  dinner  hour  came,  Colin  appeared  again 
in  the  cottage.  There  was  an  unaccustomed  weariness 
in  his  face,  and  he  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  brow, 

84 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  85 

though  he  had  not  been  putting  any  great  force  into 
his  work,  and  though  the  morning  was  fresh.  Indeed, 
new  clouds  hurried  up  in  the  sky,  and  a  wind  had 
arisen.  Mrs.  Macgillvray  pushed  a  smoking  plate  of 
porridge  toward  him  as  he  seated  himself  at  the  table. 
He  took  a  spoonful  and  dipped  it  in  the  milk,  but  he 
did  not  eat  with  appetite. 

"Ye  were  taking  the  cart  to  Drynock  for  John?" 
asked  his  mother,  her  eye  anxiously  fixed  on  old 
Rorie's  somewhat  uncertain  operations  with  the 
spoon. 

"I  was  working  in  the  barn,"  returned  Colin. 

"Aweel,  lad!"  put  in  old  Rorie.  "John  will  be  ill 
pleased  with  ye."  - 

"Maybe,"  answered  Colin. 

He  fed  himself  again  with  the  porridge,  but  his  hand 
was  unsteady,  and  underneath  the  ruddy  sunburn  his 
cheek  was  pale.  Presently  he  put  his  spoon  down,  and 
stared  fixedly  at  the  closed  door;  then  he  rose,  opened 
it,  and  looked  out.  This  happened  twice. 

"What  will  be  ailing  ye,  laddie?"  cried  his  mother. 

"I  was  thinking  somebody  was  knocking,"  returned 
Colin  confusedly.  "Mother,  I've  done,  and  I'll  be 
going  out  to  see  after  the  horse." 

"But  ye  are  not  through  with  that  porridge !" 

"I  have  done,  though.  A  body  need  not  be  eating 
more  than  he  wants." 

"It  will  be  a  sinfu'  waste." 

"It  will  be  a  worse  if  I  was  choking  myself." 

"Gude  save  us!  the  laddie's  ill!  Staring  at  the  door 
like  a  bogle,  and  leaving  good  porridge  on  the 
aschette !" 


86  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"I'm  all  right,  mother,"  answered  Colin,  correcting 
some  confusion  of  face  by  a  smile. 

Then  he  went  to  the  outhouses,  and  fetched  a  halter, 
and  walked  down  among  the  heathery  hollows,  where 
his  horse  stood  thrusting  his  nose  into  the  purple  tufts 
and  cropping  them  short.  Colin  brought  him  up  to 
the  cart,  and  harnessed  him. 

"It  will  be  an  easy  thing,"  said  he  with  a  grim  look, 
"to  see  the  way  clear  when  a  body's  in  the  kirk,  and 
when  nothing  comes  betwixt  the  talking  of  the  heart 
and  the  Lord.  I  was  meaning  John  McKenzie  to  fetch 
the  cart  himself  to  Drynock,  and  to  go  for  the  coal  his 
lane.  When  a  body  is  clean  daft,  he  must  be  his  own 
keeper,  let  folks  think  what  they  will.  But  Gude  save 
me  if  I  can  bear  her  knocking  at  my  heart  and  at  the 
door  of  my  cot  any  longer,  and  not  make  answer!" 

Then  he  took  the  way  to  Drynock. 

"You  are  late,  Colin,"  said  McKenzie,  as  his  friend 
pulled  up  the  cart  in  front  of  the  creeper-covered 
porch. 

"I  am  late,"  he  responded  shortly. 

"Aweel,  there  will  be  the  whole  afternoon  before 
us,  and  time  enough  will  be  as  good  as  any  time,  I'm 
thinking." 

"Oh,  yes!" 

"You  will  be  coming  with  me?  We  can  load  the 
cart  quicker  together." 

Colin  leaned  back  against  his  horse,  and  did  not 
immediately  respond.  His  eyes  sought  through  the 
open  door  of  the  kitchen  for  a  glimpse  of  the  bright 
presence  of  Jessamine.  The  kitchen  was  empty.  Mrs. 
McKenzie's  dolly-tub  stood  with  some  of  the  wet  linen 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  87 

hanging  on  the  side ;  a  heap  of  unwashed  things  were 
tossed  on  the  settle.  He  glanced  round  the  yard  and 
the  garden,  and  then  he  caught  sight  of  Mrs.  McKen- 
zie  standing  near  the  road  and  looking  up  it,  her  hand 
shading  her  eyes.  Before  he  had  responded  to 
McKenzie's  request,  she  turned  round  and  walked 
toward  them,  some  perturbation  of  mind  disturbing 
the  habitual  serenity  of  her  brow. 

"Colin,"  said  she,  "you  were  not  passing  Miss  Halli- 
day  along  the  road  as  you  were  coming?" 

"I  was  passing  no  one,"  returned  Colin,  his  heart 
thumping. 

"I'm  fretting  a  bit  over  her.  I'd  very  much  rather 
she  would  just  be  taking  her  walks  about  the  moor  and 
the  roads,  but  she  was  ever  very  willful  since  she  came. 
And  this  morning  she  would  not  hearken  to  counsel." 

Colin  did  not  reply.  He  looked  hard  at  Mrs. 
McKenzie,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  staring  at 
a  dark  place  whence  words,  which  he  knew  beforehand, 
would  issue  ominously. 

"And  so,  for  all  I  was  saying,"  continued  Mrs. 
McKenzie,  "she  must  take  her  way  this  morning 
through  the  deer  forest  and  up  to  Craggan  More,  carry- 
ing her  bit  lunch  in  her  hand." 

Colin  turned  sharply  to  McKenzie,  as  though  to 
respond  to  his  request. 

"I  have  work  to  do,"  said  he;  "I  will  not  be  coming 
with  you." 

"Bide  a  wee,  Colin!"  cried  Mrs.  McKenzie.  "Will 
the  deer  be  getting  dangerous?  The  lassie  has  been 
gone  a  weary  time,  and  storm  is  gathering." 

"Ay,  they  will  be  getting  dangerous." 


83  A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN. 

And  without  another  word  he  turned  on  his  heel, 
leaped  over  the  fence,  and  ran  back  toward  Dalfaber, 
and  on  to  the  deer  forest  at  the  top  of  his  speed. 

That  morning  Jessamine  had  waked  with  a  sore 
heart. 

"I  will  not  work,"  said  she;  "what  does  anything 
matter?  I  wish  there  were  somewhere  for  me  to  hide 
myself  and  lose  myself,  that  I  might  cry  all  the  tears 
out  of  my  heart  and  no  one  see.  It  is  horrible  to  be 
despised." 

Mrs.  McKenzie  prepared  for  the  weekly  washing 
after  breakfast,  and  put  the  cups  and  saucers  aside  for 
Jessamine's  share  of  the  work.  Then  she  set  the  inner 
door  open,  and,  presently  looking  up,  saw  the  girl 
standing  there,  the  dark,  dusty  little  staircase  down 
which  she  had  just  descended  throwing  off  her  profile, 
with  its  delicate  pale  despondency,  the  rays  of  spare 
light  tenderly  touching  the  curves  of  her  cheek  and 
the  ruffled  rings  of  her  dark  hair,  and  tracing  the  fair, 
slim  lines  of  her  figure. 

Mrs.  McKenzie,  looking  at  her  penetratingly  in  the 
brief  moment  when  she  dangled  her  hat  in  her  hand 
before  raising  her  eyes  and  speaking,  read  in  her  mien 
a  total  disruption  of  the  morning's  arrangements,  and 
sighed.  Then  occurred  that  little  passage  between 
good  counsel  and  willfulness  which  she  had  described 
to  Colin.  When  the  girl  had  taken  her  basket  and 
passed  out,  Mrs.  McKenzie  stepped  to  the  door  and 
looked  after  her  with  the  steady  benediction  of  her 
motherly  eyes. 
'  "The  lassie's  young,"  said  she,  "and  it's  an  ill  thing 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  89 

when  one's  young  to  get  properly  acquaint  with  one's 
own  heart.  Seems  like  as  though  we  started  life  with 
a  stranger  in  the  bosom,  who  will  be  taking  up  a  deal 
of  our  good  time.  When  we're  a  bit  settled  down  in 
life  we  get  used  to  it,  and  leave  taking  so  much  note 
of  what  will  be  going  on  in  our  own  insides,  and  we 
will  just  be  remembering  that  others'  insides  will  be  in 
the  same  ill-chance  as  our  own.  Gude  send  she  comes 
to  no  harm !" 

Jessamine,  whose  small  bark  of  experience  was  far 
from  being  anchored  by  this  tranquil  wisdom,  was 
attracted  by  the  width  and  silence  and  loneliness  of 
the  fir  woods,  and  fancied  that  she  could  sit  all  day 
among  the  trees  and  solve  the  problems  of  her  heart 
by  thinking  of  them. 

The  wood  was  fenced  on  one  side  ;  there  was  a  road 
through  it,  but  the  gate  was  locked.  Therefore  an 
entrance  into  the  place  involved  a  climb  of  some  kind. 
The  locking  of  the  gate — which  was  done  to  the  high 
inconvenience  of  the  people  of  the  place — was  the  act 
of  the  proprietor,  a  man  who  lived  in  the  country  for 
one  month  in  the  year  and  shot  over  the  land.  But 
the  road  had  been  closed  for  many  weeks  beyond  this 
one  month,  and  when  Jessamine  had  climbed  the  fence 
she  found  about  her  an  untrodden  wildness  which 
delighted  her.  The  road  was  heather-covered,  the  cart 
ruts  showing  only  as  deep  lines  of  shadow  among  the 
rank  purple  blooms;  spiders'  webs  woven  from  tuft  to 
tuft  glittered  with  the  raindrops  which  the  sun  had  not 
yet  licked  up;  and  the  bluish  translucent  mist,  which 
hovered  beneath  the  thick  growing  branches  of  the 
young  firs,  was  pierced  with  shafts  of  brilliant  un- 


go  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

touched  color — purple  and  crimson  heaths,  emerald 
ferns,  carmine  fungi,  blood  red  cranberry  leaves,  rich 
browns,  and  pale  variegated  lichens.  Above,  between 
the  fine  lace  of  the  topmost  branches,  the  blue  of  the 
sky  was  of  unfathomed  depth,  and  over  it  the  hurry 
and  disorder  of  wisplike  clouds  kept  passing  at  inter- 
vals, like  the  ranks  of  a  flying  squadron.  Amid  this 
undisturbed  loveliness  the  girl  went  slowly  with  her 
graceful,  dainty  tread,  swinging  her  basket  in  her  hand 
and  lifting  her  fair  face  to  receive  the  painting  of  the 
sun.  It  was  lonely  to  eeriness ;  but  her  health  was 
splendid,  and  in  nerve  and  fiber  she  was  strong.  As 
to  danger,  inexperience  forbade  her  to  conceive  it 
possible. 

The  road  wound  upward  almost  to  the  top ;  here 
bare  crags  escaped  from  a  dwindling  edge  of  trees  and 
lifted  their  scarred  sides  to  the  sky.  The  point  of  the 
hill  was  called  Craggan  More,  and  it  was  Jessamine's 
first  design  to  reach  the  summit ;  but  before  she  was 
halfway  up  she  saw  between  the  branches  a  place  al- 
most clear  of  the  wood,  and  where  the  heather  spread 
bare  and  purple.  Then  she  left  the  road,  and,  pushing 
through  the  thicket,  reached  the  heather,  and  flung 
herself  down  to  rest. 

From  her  position  she  commanded  a  good  view  of 
the  country ;  among  the  more  familiar  landmarks  she 
saw  the  loch  that  lay  below  Dalfaber,  and  on  the  moor 
above  the  brown  thatched  cottage.  Fixing  her  eyes 
upon  it,  she  clasped  her  hands  round  her  knees  and 
began  to  think. 

This  was  her  first  half-conscious  recognition  of  the 
fact  that  she  was  nearing  her  own  life  problem.  She 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAX.  91 

had  been  instructed  by  Aunt  Arabella  into  the  duty  of 
a  girl  to  repress  feeling,  to  hold  herself  poised  between 
relative  advantages  until  the  event  culminated  from 
the  outside.  As  to  her  own  nature,  of  that  she  had 
heard  nothing;  passion,  she  had  been  taught,  was  an 
offensive  word  and  an  unladylike  allusion.  But  dicta 
of  this  kind  have  been  proved  before  now  ineffectual 
when  genuine  emotion  is  in  question.  What  she  was 
feeling  might  be  right  or  wrong,  decorous  or  indeco- 
rous ;  that  was  not  the  point.  She  partly  realized  that 
she  did  feel  that  her  heart,  hitherto  cold  and  virginal 
as  snow,  was  melting  and  opening  beneath  an  influence 
that  was  as  new  as  it  was  strange.  So  self-conscious 
a  creature  as  Jessamine  could  not  wholly  miss  this 
change  in  herself,  nor  the  subtle  delight  of  the  entrance 
of  the  fresh  experience  within.  She  was  far  more 
inclined  to  yield  to,  and  dally  with,  her  sensations  than 
to  direct  them.  There  were  not  in  her  whole  repertory 
any  reasons  at  all  for  conduct  one  way  or  another, 
except  the  reason  that  a  course  was  comme  il  fant  or 
not  comme  ilfaut,  as  the  case  might  be;  and  this  was 
not  likely  to  prove  efficient  before  the  strongest  of  the 
natural  impulses.  It  was  true  she  possessed  a  vein  of 
hard  appreciation  of  the  advantageous  as  distinguished 
from  the  disadvantageous  in  a  worldly  point  of  view. 
That,  however,  if  it  ever  came  to  a  severe  struggle 
between  inclination  and  moral  force,  was  only  likely  to 
weaken  the  decision  by  confusing  the  issue.  Great 
decisions  are  won  only  upon  clear,  simple  lines,  and  it 
is  merely  a  sign  of  feeble  character  to  take  too  many 
points  into  consideration  when  resolutions  have  to  be 
made. 


92  A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN. 

Jessamine  had  just  reached  the  phase  when  the  stir- 
ring of  her  nature — like  the  rising  of  the  sap  in  spring — 
threw  her  upon  an  unusual  activity  of  mind  as  well  as 
body,  her  whole  self  putting  out  new  buds  and  leaves, 
here  and  there  and  everywhere,  of  thought,  and  feel- 
ing, and  beauty,  and  health.  She  was  occupied  at 
present  with  the  unmixed  delight  which  characterizes 
the  opening  of  a  passion  before  the  more  difficult 
stages  are  reached.  But  her  acute  little  mind  seized 
at  once  on  that  general  opposition  which  is  sure  to 
meet  an  individual  excursion  from  the  realm  of  the 
accustomed,  and  she  felt  it  already  as  an  injustice,  as  a 
too  great  demand  upon  personal  sacrifice,  to  be  re- 
quired to  keep  to  a  beaten  path  which  she  had  had  no 
responsibility  in  shaping,  which  she  had  been  taught  was 
advantageous  but  had  had  no  means  of  trying  for  her- 
self, and  which,  indeed,  in  the  initial  stages,  she  already 
cordially  hated.  Unawares  mingled  with  the  percep- 
tiveness  of  her  thinking,  it  was  pictorial  rather  than 
reasoned,  yet  the  sense  of  contrast  between  this  dawn- 
ing spontaneity  and  the  flat  range  of  her  former  ideas 
of  life  was  clear  enough,  and  she  discovered  it  to  be 
alluring. 

It  was  scarcely  a  deliberate  meditation  into  which 
she  fell ;  thoughts  hitherto  strangers  passed  into  her 
mind  without  her  knowing  how  or  why;  a  sense  of 
greatness  overshadowed  her,  of  isolation,  a  prevision 
freed  from  the  tiresome  details  which  she  had  been 
wont  to  call  "considerations."  For  when  Nature  is 
very  near,  she  has  a  hand  with  which  to  touch  the 
remote  springs,  and  to  bring  to  the  surface  hidden  and 
unspoken  matters  which  lie  slumbering  within. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  HIGHER  wind  came  suddenly  in  the  fir  trees,  and 
a  drop  of  rain  fell  upon  Jessamine's  hand.  She  looked 
up,  and  saw  clouds  hurrying  from  the  east,  and  long- 
trails  of  rack  stretching  over  the  sky,  and  shadows  roll- 
ing upon  the  hills.  A  shower  descended  visibly  over 
the  furthest  range,  and  drew  over  it  a  glittering  veil. 
The  glow  of  color  was  changing  into  silvery  grays  and 
duns,  but  the  sun  still  rode  high  in  the  heavens,  shoot- 
ing shafts  of  light  into  the  heart  of  the  mists,  and 
keeping  the  air  around  wonderfully  clear,  so  that  the 
nearer  landscape  gathered  in  distinctness,  and  Dal- 
faber,  with  its  loch,  its  fields  of  corn,  and  its  brown 
thatched  cottage,  stood  out  like  an  etching  of  Durer's. 

Jessamine  did  not  move.  In  spite  of  the  threaten- 
ing drop  upon  her  hand,  she  sat  still  to  watch  the  con- 
tention of  light  and  shadow  as  the  mists  encroached 
upon  the  valley,  and  it  pleased  her  fancy  to  see  how  Dal- 
faber  shone  like  a  jewel  on  a  somber  nebulous  garment, 
chancing,  as  it  did,  to  concentrate  the  bright  scarce  rays 
upon  itself.  Her  dreaming  was  over;  the  whole  en- 
campment of  vivid  images  stole  away  from  her  heart, 
and  left  it  sadder  and  more  desolate  than  before. 

Luminous  thinking  was  rare  with  her.  To  see  any- 
thing in  its  essential  simplicity  and  incontrovertible 
verity  was,  with  her,  as  a  rift  in  a  cloudy  sky  that  closed 
again.  Upon  a  mood  of  clear  intellectual  activity  and 

93 


94  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

of  genuine  discrimination  followed  the  accustomed 
parodies  of  those  powers.  She  had  never  learned  to 
look  anything  in  the  face,  or  to  concentrate  herself 
upon  it;  the  eyes  of  her  mind  glanced  hither  and 
thither.  So  that  after  any  short  spell  of  thinking,  be- 
fore she  knew  it,  a  host  of  distracting  by-thoughts  and 
fictions  ran  into  her  mind  with  hot  pattering  feet  and 
perplexing  rapidity,  and  all  that  she  possessed  of  native 
genius  remained  but  to  assert  itself  in  a  sad  foreboding 
of  martyrdom,  and  a  more  mournful  prevision  of  per- 
sonal apostasy. 

"I  cannot  think,"  said  Jessamine,  whimsically  point- 
ing what  is  a  common  experience  to  her  own  case,  "but 
the  Aunt  Arabella  in  me  gets  into  it  and  spoils  it." 

It  must  have  been  close  to  noon  when  her  reverie 
permitted  her  for  the  first  time  to  distinguish  from  the 
slow  regular  rustle  of  wind  in  the  branches,  and  the 
occasional  fall  of  a  raindrop,  the  sound  of  something 
stirring  near  at  hand.  She  turned  round  with  a  start, 
to  behold  among  the  trees  behind  the  red  side  and 
branching  antlers  of  a  stag.  It  was  cropping  heather, 
and  was  partly  hidden  by  the  interlaced  foliage  of  the 
firs,  so  that  it  did  not  see  her.  But  this  sudden  appre- 
hension of  alien  life  close  beside  her  was  infinitely 
uncanny,  and  a  remembrance  of  Mrs.  McKenzie's 
warning  made  her  look  upon  the  creature  with  alarm. 

'Tf  I  keep  very  still,"  thought  she,  "it  will  go  away 
without  seeing  me." 

The  stag,  however,  showed  no  signs  of  retiring,  but 
continued  to  crop  the  heather  with  short  snatching 
noises.  For  full  half  an  hour  she  sat  in  a  silent  tension 
watching,  the  situation  pressing  upon  her  with  a  more 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  95 

and  more  painful  sense  of  loneliness;  the  hurrying  of 
the  clouds  overhead  seemed  inconsequently  to  increase 
the  feeling,  while  the  sight  of  the  unattainable  refuge 
of  Dalfaber,  lying  below  in  homely  security,  made  her 
heart  yearn  hungrily.  As  the  moments  dragged  on,  it 
began  to  appear  as  though  she  and  the  stag  were  hung 
midway  between  earth  and  heaven  in  a  world  of  their 
own,  which  to  her  was  terrible. 

Then  the  stag  raised  its  head,  and  saw  her.  Her 
heart  leaped  when  those  strange  wild  eyeballs  rolled 
upon  her  own.  For  full  ten  minutes  the  forest  crea- 
ture stood  motionless,  gazing  at  her  with  a  pair  of 
humid,  startled  eyes,  its  branching  antlers  proudly 
lifted ;  and  Jessamine  in  mortal  fear  stared  back. 

And  still  she  was  acutely  aware  of  Dalfaber  lying 
below,  with  the  smoke  curling  steadily  out  of  the  old 
chimney.  It  seemed  to  her  that  her  spirit  flew  out  of 
her  body,  and  flung  itself  knocking  and  crying  at  the 
door. 

The  stag  began  slowly  to  move  round  and  round  in 
a  circle.  She  followed  it  with  her  eyes.  Sometimes  it 
got  behind  the  trees,  and  she  lost  command  of  it  for 
the  moment,  and  then  her  nerves  shivered  in  an 
extremity  of  expectation.  Presently  it  began  to  make 
its  circle  smaller  and  smaller,  and  to  gradually  disen- 
tangle itself  from  the  trees.  She  dared  not  stir,  but 
still  trusted  to  quietude  and  the  steadiness  of  her  own 
glance;  but  at  last  the  creature  stopped,  stretched  out 
its  throat,  and  gave  a  frightful  bellow.  Jessamine,  who 
was  wholly  unprepared  for  the  sound,  was  startled  out 
of  her  self-control,  and  she  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a 
cry.  Then  the  creature  set  its  head  down,  and  rushed 


96  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

toward  her.  She  flung  her  basket  at  it,  and  fled  toward 
the  shelter  of  the  trees.  For  the  moment  the  basket 
saved  her.  The  stag  stopped,  and  gave  her  time  to 
reach  the  thicket ;  but  Jessamine,  as  she  pushed  her 
way  frantically  through  the  close-growing  branches, 
saw  over  her  shoulder,  with  sickening  horror,  how  the 
beast  tore  and  trampled  on  the  basket  until  it  was  in 
shreds.  Desperate  now,  and  completely  unnerved,  she 
rushed  through  the  wood  at  exhausting  speed,  over  the 
hidden  bowlders  and  treacherous  clumps  of  heather 
and  fern,  breaking  her  way  through  the  interlaced 
branches  as  best  she  could,  her  clothes  torn,  her  hands 
bleeding,  and  her  face  smarting  from  the  frequent  strik- 
ing of  twigs  against  it.  Her  aim  was  to  reach  the  old 
heather-covered  road,  for  when  in  it  she  would  know 
in  what  direction  to  run,  and  fancied  that  fleetness 
might  carry  her  safely  to  the  fence  in  time.  By  good 
luck  she  made  her  way  through  the  thicket  pretty 
straight  to  the  desired  point.  The  trees  became  larger 
and  wider  apart,  and  she  saw  the  road  through  them ; 
but  as  she  neared  it,  the  mad,  crashing  sounds  in  her 
rear — which  had  been  to  her  like  the  goading  of  a 
nightmare  of  terror — suddenly  seemed  in  front.  Halt- 
ing for  a  second  to  listen,  she  heard  the  stag  some- 
where to  the  left,  and  before  she  had  time  to  effectu- 
ally conceal  herself,  it  bounded  out  into  the  road,  and 
stood  still,  turning  its  head  about,  and  snuffing  the  air; 
then  again  it  bellowed. 

Jessamine's  heart  leaped  in  her  body,  and  her  throat 
was  so  dry  that  her  breath  hurt  her;  her  limbs  began 
to  fail,  and  she  clung  to  the  shelter  of  a  large  tree,  and 
gained  a  moment's  respite.  But  the  stag  saw  her 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMA.V.  97 

immediately,  and  trotted  in  her  direction.  She  darted 
from  that  tree  and  reached  another,  glancing  frantic- 
ally round  to  see  if  there  were  time  to  scramble  up  and 
take  refuge  in  the  branches.  But  before  her  trembling 
hands  had  grasped  the  lowest  twigs  the  stag  was  rush- 
ing forward  again,  and  she  was  compelled  to  flee  toward 
a  new  shelter. 

"O  Colin,  Colin!"  cried  the  horror-stricken  girl. 

For  an  hour  of  time,  with  limbs  that  seemed  each 
moment  less  capable  of  sustaining  her,  and  with  strain- 
ing eyes  that  grew  more  and  more  blind,  and  ears  that 
were  deafened  by  the  horrible  singing  in  her  head, 
Jessamine  saved  herself  from  the  onslaught  of  the 
beast  by  the  expedient  of  darting  from  tree  to  tree. 
She  hoped  by  degrees  to  near  the  fence,  but  the  crea- 
ture still  followed  her,  and  she  seemed  no  nearer  the  con- 
fines of  the  forest  than  when  the  despefate  game  began. 
Then  the  sense  that  a  moment  must  come  when  her 
strength  and  her  wits  would  inevitably  fail  began  to 
sap  the  little  remaining  courage  which  she  possessed ; 
and  finally  the  thing  she  dreaded  most  of  all  hap- 
pened— she  lost  her  footing,  and  fell  headlong  over  a 
clump  of  heather,  only  saving  herself  from  rolling  help- 
lessly over  and  over  by  snatching  at  the  friendly  trunk 
of  a  pine  tree  near.  Unable  to  regain  her  feet,  the 
most  complete  despair  settled  upon  her,  and  she 
uttered  shriek  upon  shriek  of  anguish  that  tore  her 
throat.  Then  the  strength  even  to  do  that  failed  ;  she 
yielded  herself  to  the  bitterness  of  death,  and  lost 
every  kind  of  sense  and  consciousness,  saving  an 
extremity  of  horror  and  darkness  and  a  quivering  of 
the  flesh  in  terrific  expectation. 


98  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

But  the  fate  she  waited  for  delayed  ;  it  began  slowly 
to  dawn  upon  her  benumbed  senses  that  the  crashing 
sounds  of  the  stag's  progress  were  arrested ;  then  she 
heard  it  bellow  once  more  at  some  yards'  distance. 
Opening  her  fainting  eyes  with  half-terrified  hope,  she 
found  that  it  had  entangled  its  antlers  in  the  crooked, 
close-growing  branches  of  a  tree,  and  was  for  the  mo- 
ment a  prisoner.  Relief  brought  back  more  of  her 
sense  and  strength,  and  then  she  was  enabled  to  dis- 
tinguish the  reiterated  shout  of  a  man's  voice  some- 
where in  the  forest.  No  flutelike  music  could  have 
sounded  so  sweet  as  that  rough  sound,  and,  gathering 
her  forces  together,  she  managed  to  give  an  answering 
cry.  And  then  came  the  rending  and  tearing  of  the 
underwood  again  as  someone  frantically  fought  a  way 
toward  her,  shouting  as  he  came.  The  stag,  frightened 
both  at  the  soifrids  and  its  own  imprisoned  condition, 
made  frantic  efforts  to  free  itself,  and  at  last  broke 
from  the  branches,  and  bounded  away  into  the  thicket 
at  the  very  moment  when  Colin's  form  became  visible 
among  the  heavily  massed  foliage. 

Jessamine  was  struggling  to  her  feet  as  he  came  up, 
and  he  put  his  hands  out  to  help  her,  bending  speech- 
lessly toward  her  with  a  white  face.  She  burst  out 
crying  when  she  saw  him,  and  caught  at  his  coat,  cling- 
ing to  him  and  hiding  her  face  until  the  horrible  shud- 
dering was  overpassed.  And  he  held  her  silently,  his 
mouth  set  and  grim. 

"Oh!"  moaned  she,  lifting  her  head  at  last;  "to  die 
like  that— to  die  like  that !" 

"Ay,"  he  said;  "young  and  so  bonnie!" 

Then  he  threw  one  arm  round  her,  and  helped  her 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  99 

along,  while  with  the  other  he  beat  back  the  branches. 
When  they  came  to  the  road,  he  lifted  her  like  a  child 
in  his  arms. 

"Cannot  I  walk?"  asked  Jessamine. 

"Not  until  we  get  to  the  highway,"  he  answered 
briefly.  "Put  your  arms  about  my  neck;  I  will  be 
carrying  you  easier  that  way." 

She  laid  her  arms  about  his  neck  as  he  bade  her,  and 
closed  her  eyes.  And  then  she  heard  him  give  a  great 
sigh,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  for  a  moment  he 
pressed  her  tight  against  his  heart.  When  they 
reached  the  highroad,  he  set  her  again  upon  her  feet. 
By  this  time  the  rain  beat  down  in  a  wild  shower.  He 
stood  so  that  he  could  shelter  her  a  little  with  his 
body,  his  hands  being  thrust  into  the  side  pockets  of 
his  coat. 

"Bide  a  wee,"  said  he ;  "a  cart  or  something  must  be 
passing  along  in  a  moment.  There  are  a  good  few 
every  hour." 

"Oh!"  cried  Jessamine,  her  eyes  still  wide  with  ter- 
ror, "if  you  had  not  come  the  stag  would  have  killed 
me.  I  could  not  have  run  another  yard." 

"If  it  had  got  you,"  said  he  shortly,  "there  would 
not  have  been  a  live  deer  left  in  the  forest  by  morn- 
ing." 

She  looked  up.  His  face  was  still  white  and  grim, 
and  in  his  eyes  was  a  somber  desperation  which  could 
not  be  lightly  banished,  and  which  affected  her  with  a 
sort  of  fear.  She  made  no  reply,  but  cowered  by  his 
side,  while  the  rain  poured  down  in  sheets  before  them, 
washing  out  more  and  more  of  the  landscape,  and,  by 
obliterating  their  surroundings,  concentrating  the  con- 


ioo  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

sciousness  of  the  two  upon  the  small  dripping  spot  of 
earth  which  they  occupied  together.  Jessamine  shiv- 
ered not  only  with  retrospective  terror,  but  with  fore- 
boding fear.  Glancing  up  again  to  his  strong  figure, 
and  taking  an  indelible  impression  from  the  quiet  force 
of  his  face,  her  heart  ran  down  to  some  remote  place 
of  weakness  in  her  being,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
had  been  snatched  from  death  only  to  be  set  upon 
some  dim-washed  islet  of  earth,  where  a  tremendous 
and  inexplicable  claim  grasped  and  held  her. 

Both  of  them  were  relieved  when  a  cart  rumbled 
along,  driven  by  a  man  with  a  mackintosh  cap  pulled 
over  his  nose  and  a  mackintosh  cloak  pulled  over  his 
ears ;  the  rain  ran  in  rivers  over  him.  Colin  stopped  the 
cart,  and  briefly  explaining  what  had  happened,  begged 
the  driver  to  take  the  exhausted  girl  back  to  Drynock. 

"Indeed,  and  I  will,"  was  the  gentle  Highland 
reponse. 

And  while  Colin  helped  her  into  the  cart  the  driver 
unbuttoned  his  mackintosh  to  spread  over  her.  It 
seemed  to  Jessamine  to  make  everything  that  had 
passed  more  dreamlike  and  inexplicable,  that  Mac- 
gillvray  had  altered  his  manner  to  the  old  distant 
respectfulness. 

"Stop!"  she  cried,  as  they  were  about  to  start. 
And,  leaning  over  the  side  of  the  cart,  she  stretched 
her  hand  to  Colin,  who  came  up  and  took  it  reluctantly 
in  his  own.  "If  you  had  not  come,"  she  murmured, 
gazing  at  him  with  eyes  that  were  still  dazed,  "the  stag 
would  have  killed  me." 

She  had  intended  to  thank  him,  but  nothing  save 
this  lame  phrase  would  rise  to  her  lips. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  IOI 

"I'm  thinking,"  returned  Colin,  "that  we  will  be 
quits  now." 

A  faint  smile  played  for  a  moment  over  his  white 
lips;  but  he  withdrew  his  hand  instantly  and  signed  to 
the  driver  to  proceed.  The  last  Jessamine  saw  of  him 
was  walking  along  the  road,  his  head  turned  aside, 
the  inextinguishable  grimness  still  in  his  face.  Then 
the  showers  washed  him  out,  and  left  nothing  save  a 
blurred  shadow.  And  she  cowered  down  in  the  cart 
under  the  mackintosh,  with  her  hand  pressed  tight 
against  her  heart. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MISS  HALLIDAY  liked  her  colors  in  half  light;  the 
hues  she  prefererd  were  pale  primrose,  cream,  or  wan 
yellows.  Nevertheless,  one  morning,  about  a  week 
after  the  stag  incident,  and  when  she  had  entirely 
recovered  the  event,  she  was  to  be  seen  ransacking  her 
drawer  for  a  knot  of  rose-colored  ribbon.  But  her 
drawer  contained  no  such  thing  as  a  bit  of  bright  rib- 
bon ;  though  she  turned  the  contents  over  with  eager 
hands,  nothing  of  the  sort  was  to  be  found. 

After  searching  in  vain,  she  stood  still  in  the  middle 
of  the  poor  cottage  chamber,  the  clumsy  beams  near 
her  head,  the  little  window  letting  a  chill  draught  stir 
the  skirt  of  her  dress.  It  was  the  gray  woolen  dress 
with  the  straight  unadorned  folds.  Her  hands  were 
loosely  linked,  and  her  body  so  poised  upon  thought 
and  so  still  that  it  looked  like  a  lovely  statue,  and  the 
wonderful  female  face  was  lifted  like  a  flower. 

Suddenly,  with  a  sobbing  exclamation,  she  stretched 
out  her  hand  and  unhooked  from  the  wall  the  small 
looking-glass  which  formed  the  sole  substitute  for  the 
splendid  mirrors  of  yore;  it  hung  in  a  dark  corner,  but 
she  carried  it  to  the  window  and  looked  critically  at 
the  reflection  of  her  own  face.  Macgillvray,  who  con- 
tinually set  her  in  a  new  light  to  herself,  made  even  her 
beauty  a  matter  of  interrogation,  so  that  her  gaze  into 
the  glass  was  both  penetrating  and  anxious.  Out  of  it 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  103 

looked  back  to  her  a  small  oval  face,  with  a  dash  of 
color  in  the  cheeks,  exquisite  lips,  red  like  cherries,  a 
short  dimpled  chin,  and  underneath  the  winglike  eye- 
brows a  pair  of  large  dark  eyes  with  storm  in  them. 
The  color  and  the  storm  were  new.  She  took  a  knot 
of  pale  primrose  and  then  of  cream  ribbon  and  tried 
them  against  her  cheek,  but  neither  satisfied  her.  A 
bit  of  red  sweet  William  with  other  flowers  stood  in  a 
vase  on  her  mantelpiece;  she  tried  that.  The  rich 
deep  velvety  hue  suited,  she  saw  in  a  moment,  the 
flamelike  signals  in  her  cheeks,  the  new  ripeness  of  her 
lips,  the  wild  strange  light  in  her  eyes.  There  was  an 
amazing  magical  something  in  her  face  which  the  color 
intensified,  and  she  threw  the  dejected  aesthetic  hues 
(which  so  ill-suited  this  leaping  up  of  life  within  her) 
away,  and,  putting  on  her  hat,  slipped  out  without 
pausing  to  excuse  herself  to  Mrs.  McKenzie,  and 
walked  many  miles  to  the  nearest  shop,  and  purchased 
two  or  three  shades  of  bright-colored  ribbons. 

On  her  return  she  hurried  up  to  her  bedroom  again, 
and  tied  her  ruffled  hair  up  in  a  little  heap  above  her 
head,  with  a  tiny  knot  of  the  ribbon  showing  like  a 
spark  in  the  midst,  and  she  fastened  a  handkerchief  of 
the  same  color  under  her  collar  and  long  white  throat. 
The  walk  had  flushed  and  animated  her,  and  when  she 
looked  again  into  the  glass  a  laugh  of  triumph  parted 
her  lips,  making  her  pearly  teeth  glitter,  and  dimpling 
with  tender  mischievous  touches  the  pretty  curves  of 
her  chin  and  cheeks.  She  threw  down  the  glass  and 
lifted  her  lovely  arms,  clasping  her  hands  behind  her 
head. 

"I  am  beautiful!  beautiful!  beautiful!"  cried  she,  in 


104  A   SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

a  strange  fervor  of  conviction.  "Ye  gods!  why  have 
I  been  made  so  beautiful?" 

The  moment  after  her  arms  sank  again  to  her  sides, 
and  her  body  fell  into  a  posture  of  lassitude,  while  her 
brows  slightly  contracted  over  some  brooding  thought. 

"So  beautiful,"  she  murmured,  "that  it  frightens 
me!" 

After  which  she  shook  off  the  impression  and  went 
out  demurely,  without  any  covering  on  her  head  (as 
she  had  seen  Mrs.  McKenzie  do),  to  ask  if  she  could 
not  set  her  hand  to  some  work. 

In  the  field  opposite  the  house  McKenzie  was  occu- 
pied with  his  stack ;  he  was  covering  it  with  fresh  green 
rushes  as  a  defense  against  the  rain.  In  the  same  field 
Mrs.  McKenzie  was  spreading  the  morning's  washing 
out  to  dry.  Two  cows  and  a  horse  pastured  near 
them ;  the  field  had  a  little  curving  path  through  it, 
and  a  slope  of  rising  ground ;  the  fowls  picked  their 
way  across  the  road  toward  the  stack,  with  the  air  of 
trespassers  who  trust  a  preoccupied  world  may  imagine 
that  they  come  upon  affairs  of  importance.  Mrs. 
McKenzie,  looking  up,  saw  Jessamine  with  her  red  rib- 
bons and  uncovered  hair  unfastening  the  wicket  gate 
and  approaching;  McKenzie,  glancing  down  from  his 
ladder,  saw  her  also,  and  greeted  her  with  the  smile  of 
indulgent  amusement  which  was  his  invariable  saluta- 
tion. She  lingered  near  the  stack  for  a  moment,  her 
eyes  entreating  for  a  recognition  of  her  beauty,  and  her 
lips  asking  all  manner  of  questions  about  the  rushes 
and  his  mode  of  fastening  them  on,  and  what  was  the 
most  excellent  way  of  preserving  a  stack  from  harm, 
and  whether  the  hay  would  last  all  winter  for  the  cows. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  105 

A  co\v  meanwhile,  neglecting  its  pasture,  stretched  a 
moist  muzzle  over  the  fence  toward  the  stack  with  vain 
and  improvident  appetite.  McKenzie,  looking  down 
from  his  ladder  to  answer  her  inquiries,  perceived  that 
the  play  of  sunshine  on  her  bright  ribbons  and  wavy 
hair  was  a  beautiful  thing  to  the  eye,  and  smiled  the 
more  because  of  it.  Jessamine  turned  away  satisfied, 
and  passed  down  the  field  toward  Mrs.  McKenzie. 

In  Mrs.  McKenzie's  roomy  nature  the  most  astonish- 
ing event  settled  down  after  a  time  into  composure. 
She  had  put  forth  a  maternal  tendril  or  so  the  more 
on  Jessamine's  account,  and  when  she  saw  the  girl 
approaching  with  the  bright  ribbons  in  her  hair  and  a 
new  and  nameless  grace  upon  her  lips  and  brow,  she 
raised  herself  slowly  from  her  stooping  posture  and 
looked  her  over  steadily.  And  she  saw,  as  in  a  picture, 
a  way  opening  before  her, — the  most  mysterious  and 
dread  of  our  existence,  save  death  itself, — and  Jessa- 
mine passing  down  it  alone  and  unaided.  Men  call  it 
the  way  of  Love.  What  erratic,  fitful  light  gleaming 
out  of  the  astonishing  depths  in  Jessamine's  eyes 
touched  her  Scotch  nature  with  vague  premonition,  it 
would  be  hard  to  say ;  but  the  quietude  and  sobriety 
with  which  she  received  the  girl  intensified  in  her  gaze 
as  though  she  would  have  thrown  out  some  steady 
anchorage  to  her  help. 

"Lassie,"  said  she  in  a  caressing,  grave  voice,  "are  ye 
fey?" 

"Fey?  Oh,  no!  See!  I  will  help  you  with  the 
linen." 

And  she  dragged  a  sheet  with  effort  out  of  the 
basket. 


106  A    SUPERFLUOUS 

"I  have  been  away  all  morning,"  she  added.  "Have 
you  been  busy?" 

"Ay.  In  this  hard  country  we  must  be  doing  all  we 
can,  and  taking  every  chance  that  comes.  There  will 
not  be  any  time  too  much." 

"Where  I  came  from  time  dragged." 

"Ay.  It  is  all  one  hour;  but  a  body  here  will  be 
saying 'Bide  a  wee,' and  a  body  there  will  be  saying 
'Go  straight  on  like  the  lightning.'  He  is  aye  ill-treatit 
is  old  Time ;  he  pleases  none." 

"And  here  it  is  never  dreary,"  murmured  Jessamine, 
with  a  certain  cadence  in  her  voice  like  the  color  in  her 
cheeks. 

"When  the  wunther  comes  it  will  be  dreary — espe- 
cially the  wunther  evenings." 

"And  when  time  is  dreary,  what  do  you  do?" 

"Indeed,  we  just  pass  it  away  as  well  as  we  can." 

Jessamine  looked  round ;  the  sweet  country  out-of- 
door  life,  the  shafts  of  sunlight,  the  stir  of  work,  the 
ripples  of  laughter  from  the  children  who  played  in  the 
road,  filled  her  heart  with  melody. 

"In  the  winter  it  does  not  look  like  this?"  she  said. 

"In  the  wunther  it  is  ever  bleak  and  cold;  there  will 
be  little  work  to  do,  and  long  dark  evenings  to  be  sitting 
still.  And  the  wind  drives  cauld  down  the  chimney." 

"Have  you  books  to  read?  There  must  be  some- 
thing." 

"A  few  books;  but  John  and  me  will  not  be  great 
readers.  We  have  the  singing  class,  though,  and  that 
will  be  something." 

"You  sing?  Ah,  I  remember!  But  how  about  this 
class?" 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WO  MAX.  107 

"The  lads  just  meet  at  each  other's  houses,  and  then 
we  sing  in  parts.  It  passes  time  away." 

"Does  Mr.  McKenzie  sing?" 

"John  is  not  so  much  at  it.  He  will  not  have  a  very 
good  voice." 

"Do  you  sing  in  the  class?" 

"Oh,  yes ;  whiles." 

A  pause,  during  which  Jessamine's  heart  ran  on  and 
then  tripped  up. 

"Does — Mr.  Macgillvray  sing?"  asked  she,  with  a 
throb  in  her  voice. 

Mrs.  McKenzie  shook  out  a  shirt  and  held  it  up  in 
her  brawny  arms. 

"Colin  will  not  be  knowing  much  about  it.  He  does 
not  know  how." 

"Does  he  not  like  music?" 

"Oh,  yes;  he  is  very  much  taken  up  with  it  indeed." 

"Why,  then?     Hasn't  he  a  good  voice?" 

"Oh,  yes;  he  will  have  a  good  voice.  But  he  doesn't 
know  anything." 

"Is  he  not  a  reader?  I  am  sure  he  is  fond  of 
books." 

"Colin  reads  a  little  now  and  then;  but  he  is  not  a 
scholar;  he  does  not  care.  He  just  does  his  worruk." 

"He  is  a  good  farmer,"  said  Jessamine,  a  shadow  on 
her  face. 

"He  does  not  care  to  improve  his  farm;  he  has  not 
any  ideas.  He  just  does  his  worruk." 

"He  built  those  good  barns,"  said  Jessamine,  an 
inconsequent  fury  in  her  heart. 

"The  old  ones  fell  down,  and  he  had  to  have  them 
built  up  again.  The  barns  are  better  than  the  house," 


io8  A    SUPERFLUOUS 

insisted  Mrs.  McKenzie,  with  her  ordinary  deliberate 
composure. 

"The  house  with  the  thatch  roof  is  very  pretty,  I 
think." 

"It  is  a  poor  place;  he  might  improve  it.  The  top 
story  is  just  nothing.  But  Colin  does  not  care.  He 
just  does  his  worruk.  That's  Colin." 

"He  is  good.  He  has  a  face  full  of  kindness.  lean- 
not  think  he  would  ever  be  unkind." 

"Colin  is  a  kind  man ;  he  will  be  always  kind.  He 
keeps  himself  very  respectable.  He  just  does  his 
worruk.  That's  Colin." 

And  Mrs.  McKenzie  moved  farther  off,  bending  her 
matronly  figure  over  the  basket,  and  setting  the  large 
wise  prose  of  her  mind  to  make  the  more  expedition 
that  she  had  wasted  time  in  words. 

Jessamine,  on  the  other  hand,  stood  idle  and  reflect- 
ive, looking  at  the  sheet  she  had  spread  upon  the  grass, 
with  minute  care  as  to  the  mathematical  squareness  of 
its  shape. 

Meanwhile,  Maysie  McKenzie  and  her  small  allies 
had  tumbled  over  the  fence  into  the  field,  and  had  be- 
gun to  play  near.  At  this  point  they  made  themselves 
conspicuous  by  silence ;  they  stood  in  a  row,  hand-in- 
hand  :  Maysie  with  her  yellow  hair  and  velvet  brown 
eyes,  her  discreet  manner  and  brain  fertile  in  mischief; 
Mary  Grant  with  still  fairer  hair  and  blue  eyes — a  tiny 
toddle,  whose  little  cooing  voice  perpetually  asked  for 
consolation ;  Larry  Grant,  a  pale-faced,  large-eyed 
creature,  with  immense  wisdom  of  demeanor  and  a 
facility  in  following  evil  counsels;  Willie  Macniel,  the 
eldest,  a  red-haired,  gray-eyed  lad,  whose  sweet  elastic 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  109 

little  body  was  never  still,  but  who  ran  and  leaped  and 
bounded  with  the  grace  of  a  young  deer.  They  stood 
now,  hand-in-hand,  gazing  with  round  grave  eyes  in  one 
direction.  Jessamine,  wondering  what  attracted  them, 
looked  too. 

Down  the  little  curling  path,  which  ran  through  the 
field,  came  slowly  along  the  figure  of  an  old,  old  man. 
He  was  dressed  in  corduroy,  and  his  clothes,  though 
good,  were  ancient  and  greasy;  he  wore  no  collar,  and 
his  woolen  shirt  was  open  at  the  throat;  he  had  a 
crushed  wide-awake  upon  his  head,  and  in  his  hand  a 
staff.  His  hair  was  white  and  his  beard  was  white ;  it 
was  tossed  and  wild,  and  his  ruddy  face  was  stained 
with  peat  smoke  and  ingrained  with  dirt.  He  had 
large  hooked  features,  and  a  certain  ancient  and 
uncanny  air,  which  made  him  an  astonishing  though 
not  attractive  picture.  At  him  the  children  gazed,  and 
Jessamine  with  them.  The  old  man  came  on,  setting 
his  staff  on  the  ground  with  a  little  blow  as  he  went, 
and  staring  about  him  with  open  mouth  and  with  the 
slow,  dazed  stare  of  the  aged.  As  he  neared  the  stack 
McKenzie  came  down  the  ladder,  and  leaned  over  the 
fence  to  say  a  word  or  two  to  him. 

"Who  is  it?",  asked  Jessamine  of  Mrs.  McKenzie, 
looking  at  the  old  peasant  with  horrible  misgiving. 

"That  will  be  old  Mr.  Rorie  Macgillvray  Dalfaber — 
Colin's  father." 

"Mr.  Macgillvray  will  be  wanting  you,  Annie," 
shouted  McKenzie  from  the  stack.  "He  is  going  into 
the  house." 

Mrs.  McKenzie  left  the  linen  and  hurried  after  old 
Rorie,  who  was  walking  on  and  smiting  the  earth  with 


no  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

his  staff  as  he  went.  The  children,  as  though  some 
joyous  event  had  come  and  gone,  began  to  play  and 
scream  with  renewed  zest.  Jessamine  for  a  few  min- 
utes went  on  unfolding  the  linen  and  spreading  it  upon 
the  grass;  and  then  a  feeling  of  sudden  illness  over- 
came her.  She  dropped  a  sheet  in  a  heap  at  her  feet, 
and  stood  staring  dazedly  before  her;  and  then  she 
walked  right  away  up  the  little  path  down  which  old 
Rorie  had  come,  out  of  sight  of  McKenzie  and  the 
children,  until  she  reached  a  knoll  covered  with  birch 
trees.  Here  she  sat  down  in  the  shade,  her  body  bent 
together,  and  her  arms  folded  across  it. 

Beneath  her  the  little  path  curled,  and  beyond 
spread  the  waving  gold  of  an  oatfield  ready  for  the  har- 
vest, and  beyond  that  was  the  tumultuous  grandeur 
of  the  hills,  over  which  the  afternoon  light  scattered 
itself  in  a  golden  shower,  and  above  which  the  clouds 
slumbered  in  a  silver  haze.  But  her  eyes  strained 
themselves  along  the  path  that,  like  a  twisted  thread, 
crept  about  the  purple  flank  of  the  moor,  breaking  off 
now  and  then  in  a  shredded  heap  of  gray  stones,  or 
sinking  into  a  hollow  of  sparse  grass,  and  finally  vanish- 
ing round  the  corner  of  some  farmer's  cottage  beyond. 

We  go  on  and  on,  knowing  neither  how  nor  where; 
and  in  youth  this  irresponsible  wandering  of  untutored 
feet  acquaints  us  again  and  again  with  the  strangeness 
and  suddenness  of  human  experience.  That  road  is 
undiscovered  land  to  each  young  soul ;  a  myriad  feet 
may  have  paved  the  way  beforehand,  but  to  each 
human  being  it  is  as  an  unpenetrated  desert,  a  venture 
into  new  worlds,  a  sailing  on  unnavigated  seas.  There 
was  none  to  whom  Jessamine  could  appeal  and  ask, 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  m 

"Whither  leads  this  road?"  Her  mind  opened  and 
shut,  opened  and  shut,  letting  out  formless  flitting 
ideas  of  youth  and  passion,  life  and  love;  but  side  by 
side  with  every  aerial-tinted  image  went  the  repulsive 
figure  of  old  Rorie,  staring  with  open  mouth,  and  smit- 
ing on  the  earth  with  his  staff. 

The  heavens,  wide  as  hope  and  clear  as  the  thoughts 
of  a  god,  are  above  us,  but  our  feet  are  entangled  in 
narrow  ways. 

Down  the  curling  path,  afar  off,  scarcely  distinguish- 
able at  first  from  the  brown  side  of  the  cottage,  ap- 
peared at  length  the  figure  of  a  man.  Jessamine 
strained  her  eyes  toward  him ;  it  was  as  though  she 
had  expected  the  form  to  shape  itself  upon  the  little 
curling  path,  and  to  come  walking  toward  her.  A  feel- 
ing of  blindness  fell  upon  her  as  though  the  whole 
world  were  blanched  out  and  the  twisting  path  alone 
were  left  with  the  figure  approaching.  On  he  came 
with  poised,  deliberate  walk,  his  head  up,  his  limbs 
moving  from  tne  hip,  his  great  shoulders  straight. 
Jessamine  knew  without  seeing  how  clear  and  serious 
were  his  eyes,  and  how  his  lips  were  folded  one  upon 
another.  And  presently  he  was  near.  His  face  smote 
like  a  brown-red  cameo  against  the  translucent  blue  of 
the  distance,  and  smote  itself  like  a  fiery  seal  on  the 
heart  of  the  watcher. 

And  just  then  he  looked  up. 

A  gray  birch  tree  with  a  pallid  lichen-covered  stem 
and  the  indiscriminate  gray  shadows  of  many  other 
birch  bushes  crowded  together,  drowning  color  in  a 
cool  umbrage ;  a  grassy  knoll,  close-cropped  and  juice- 
less,  a  gray  heap  of  granite  ;  and  against  the  lichen-cov- 


H2  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

ered  stem  a  soft  gray  dress;  and  above  a  little  face, 
with  sparks  of  red  under  the  chin  and  in  the  knot 
of  hair,  and  a  flame  in  either  cheek,  and  in  the  eyes 
an  unutterable  something  which  made  the  world  reel 
suddenly. 

Colin's  steps  dragged  ;  his  hand  automatically  sought 
his  cap;  but  he  saw  nothing,  knew  nothing,  save  the 
face  which  had  opened  like  the  heart  of  a  flower  out 
of  the  dim  gray  wood  for  him  alone. 

The  great  world  gave  a  leap  as  the  two  pairs  of  eyes 
met  each  other. 

And  then  a  voice,  quavering  and  impatient  and  com- 
ing from  afar,  broke  the  spell  and  veiled  the  moment. 
It  was  old  Rorie  shouting  irritably  for  his  son.  Colin 
with  an  effort  forced  himself  away,  and  passed  on 
without  speaking.  Jessamine  slid  like  a  shadow  into 
the  wood. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

JESSAMINE  felt  herself  to  be  as  one  sitting  on  a  bare 
jet  of  rock,  round  which  the  tide  creeps  closer.  And 
yet  she  thought  that  she  could  still  escape. 

For  two  or  three  days  she  saw  nothing  of  Macgill- 
vray.  In  the  mornings  the  first  touch  of  the  sun  woke 
her  to  immediate  gladness  of  existence,  and  she  would 
spring  from  her  bed,  an  ecstatic  sense  of  youth  and 
health  coursing  through  her  limbs,  dyeing  her  cheeks 
and  shining  in  her  eyes.  At  such  moments  she  was  as 
an  untired  swimmer  in  a  sunlit  sea,  ungirt  by  visible 
shores,  but  leaned  upon  by  a  limitless  sky. 

She  worked  so  hard  and  with  such  a  flush  of  exuber- 
ant energy,  with  eyes  so  hopefully  expectant,  that 
Mrs.  McKenzie,  watching  her  one  morning  at  the  iron- 
ing table,  felt  prompted  to  speak.  She  was  sitting 
behind,  nipping  and  pressing  the  edge  of  a  cap  with  her 
fingers,  and  as  she  looked  at  the  creeper-covered  win- 
dow, with  the  back  of  the  slim  girlish  figure — over 
which,  she  fancied,  the  sun  seemed  glad  to  play — sil- 
houetted against  it,  a  maternal  solicitude  began  to 
trouble  her  mild  eyes. 

"Two  will  be  in  that  task,  I'm  thinking,  lassie,"  said 
she. 

Jessamine  was  pressing  the  iron  upon  a  shirt  of  Mr. 
McKenzie's.  Mrs.  McKenzie,  watching  her  steadily, 
saw  the  little  ear  and  the  curve  of  the  cheek — just  then 


114  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

daintily  edged  with  light — flush;  the  gentle  swaying 
movements  of  the  ironing  continued,  but  the  figure 
seemed  to  quiver  with  consciousness. 

"Will  someone  be  gathering  and  giving  you  the  bit 
of  white  heather?"  continued  Mrs.  McKenzie  in  a  low 
voice. 

There  was  no  answer;  the  iron  came  down  on  the 
shirt-sleeve  with  the  deft  firmness  which  had  been 
learned  from  Mrs.  McKenzie  herself. 

"They  say,"  remarked  the  latter  as  firmly,  "that 
luck's  in  marriage." 

These  words  hazarded,  she  looked  for  their  effect. 
A  second  flush  beat  into  the  cheek  and  ear — one  so 
deep  that  they  must  have  smarted  as  from  a  blow; 
then  it  drew  away,  leaving  pallor.  Mrs.  McKenzie's 
eyes  filled  with  wistful  alarm,  but  the  patting  of  the 
ironing  went  on,  and  was  continued  until  the  shirt  was 
folded.  Then  Jessamine  turned  round,  and  Mrs. 
McKenzie  found  herself  confronted  with  a  pair  of  sad, 
inscrutable  eyes,  and  the  manner  of  the  Dominant 
class. 

"I  have  finished  the  shirts,  Mrs.  McKenzie,  and  will 
go  upstairs  for  a  little.  No;  no  one  has  gathered  and 
given  me  a  bit  of  white  heather." 

In  Jessamine's  appearance  for  the  moment  was  a 
curious  resemblance  to  her  Aunt  Arabella,  and  upon 
this  metamorphosis  Mrs.  McKenzie  gazed  with  eyes  of 
penetrating  mildness.  Then  Miss  Halliday  left  the 
kitchen,  the  other  remaining  to  her  reflections. 

These  were  almost  immediately  broken  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  John  at  the  outer  door.  He  had  a  spruce 
and  brushed-up  look,  his  skin  shining  above  his  dark 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  115 

beard,  and  his  eyes  cheerful  with  the  prespect  of  ad- 
venture. 

"I  must  be  going,  Annie,"  said  he;  "but  where  will 
the  bonnie  wee  lassie  be?" 

Mrs.  McKenzie  moved  her  head  in  the  direction  of 
the  inner  door  and  staircase  without  speaking. 

"She  might  be  wanting  something  from  town. 
Could  we  be  calling  her?"  asked  John,  with  the  hesi- 
tating awe  of  high  quality  which  still  perplexed  the 
more  familiar  relations. 

"John,"  said  Mrs.  McKenzie,  rising,  "it  seems  to  me 
as  though  I  was  seeing  trouble  coming." 

"Aweel,"  said  John,  his  radiance  unabated,  "if 
trouble's  coming  we  will  just  be  sitting  still  and  biding 
for  it;  we  will  not  be  saddling  a  horse  and  going  out 
to  meet  it." 

"But,"  said  Mrs.  McKenzie,  "if  we  could  be  turning 
it  into  another  road?" 

"Depend  upon  it,  Annie,  if  we  try,  it  will  be  making 
us  carry  it  here  oursels.  And  what  will  be  ailing  you 
to  talk  of  ill  luck?" 

Miss  Halliday's  light  step  upon  the  stair  dispersed 
Mrs.  McKenzie's  slowly  gathering  answer,  and  the  mo- 
ment afterward  the  bright,  innocent  face  in  the  door- 
way shot  a  reproach  right  into  her  bosom.  Jessamine 
walked  up  to  John  with  a  little  bit  of  paper  in  her  hand, 
and  he  greeted  her  with  a  smile  of  indulgent  liking. 

"You  are  going  to  town,"  said  she.  "Will  you  do 
me  a  small  errand?" 

"I  will  be  most  pleased." 

"It  is  only  a  little  one.  You  see  this  name  on  the 
paper?  It  is  the  name  of  a  journal  which  you  can  get 


Ii6  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

from  any  of  the  large  railway  stations,  if  you  will  be  so 
kind  as  to  call  there  for  me.  It  costs  one  shilling." 

"Oh,  certainly !"  said  John,  taking  the  paper,  and 
feeling  in  his  pocket  for  his  book;  "but  I  will  be  los- 
ing this  scrap  of  writing,  and,  indeed,  I  had  best  be 
setting  it  just  down  in  my  book." 

He  drew  forth  a  pocketbook,  and  turned  over  the 
leaves. 

"Let  me  see,"  continued  he;  "where  will  I  be?  Oh, 
here !  'Sale  of  Corn  at  Righchar.  Longhorn  Calf  at 
Bulnabruick.'  That  will  be  it.  And  now  what  will  I 
put  down?"  He  examined  the  scrap  of  paper.  "Oh, 
yes!  Society's  Whispers."  He  wrote  the  name  down 
under  the  calf.  "Oh,  yes!  Indeed,  I  will  be  most 
pleased  to  get  it  for  you,  Miss  Halliday.  And  I  will 
be  bringing  it  back  to  you  to-morrow,  whatever!" 

Then  he  went  out  into  the  yard,  and  Jessamine  fol- 
lowed to  pat  the  horse  on  the  nose,  and  to  watch  Mr. 
McKenzie  get  into  his  trap  and  drive  away.  The  red 
of  her  cheeks  and  the  shining  of  her  eyes  caused  him 
throughout  his  journey  to  smile  again  and  again  unwit- 
tingly. 

When  he  had  gone,  Jessamine  returned  to  the 
kitchen,  where  Mrs.  McKenzie  was  bending  over  the 
fire  to  throw  vegetables  into  the  broth  she  was  cook- 
ing; but  when  Mrs.  McKenzie  caught  sight  of  her 
standing  in  the  cross-light  between  the  door  and  win- 
dow, she  looked  her  over  steadily  once  more  while  she 
continued  stirring  in  the  pot  with  a  large  wooden 
spoon.  But  she  said  nothing. 

"Let  me  peel  the  potatoes  for  you,"  said  Jessamine 
caressingly. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"LUCK'S  in  marriage."  Those  had  been  Mrs. 
McKenzie's  words,  and  they  echoed  over  and  over 
again  in  the  girl's  mind  during  the  rest  of  the  day,  fill- 
ing her  with  indescribable  alarm.  Was  the  question 
really  before  her  again?  If  so,  this  time  it  was  indeed 
an  unvarnished  demand — one  of  simple  and  austere 
purport,  having  no  part  concealed  by  flattery  and 
adroit  artifice. 

Jessamine  recoiled  with  a  feeling  of  offense. 

When  Mrs.  McKenzie's  back  was  turned  she  would 
glance  at  her  with  fitful  gloom,  and  her  lips  were  proud. 
But  Mrs.  McKenzie  made  no  further  reference  to  the 
subject. 

"John  came  home  last  night,  and  was  looking  for 
you  everywhere,"  said  she  next  morning. 

"I  am  glad  he  is  back.  I  missed  him,"  returned 
Jessamine. 

"And  he  was  not  forgetting  what  you  asked  him  to 
bring.  Here  is  the  paper." 

Mrs.  McKenzie  handed  her  a  pink-covered  journal. 
The  very  aspect  brought  back  London  and  ennui.  She 
seemed  to  see  the  corner  table  in  the  drawing  room 
at  home,  on  which  the  papers  were  wont  to  lie;  she 
depicted  Aunt  Arabella  coming  into  the  room  in  an 
elegant  teagown,  and  sitting  down  upon  the  armchair 
by  the  fire,  and  placing  her  gold-rimmed  pince-nez 


ii8  A   SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN. 

upon  her  high-bred  ridge,  and  retiring  behind  the  pink 
sheets.  These  involuntary  reminiscences  caused  her  a 
shiver;  she  glanced  at  the  journal  with  distaste,  and 
went  on  with  her  dusting. 

Mrs.  McKenzie,  who  by  this  time  was  too  much 
accustomed  to  the  girl's  moods  to  notice  them,  carried 
the  pink  paper  reverentially  out  of  the  way  of  the  dust, 
and,  unremarked  by  her,  placed  it  on  a  side  table  in 
her  own  room. 

Thus  it  happened  that  Society's  Whispers  lay  for  a 
day  or  two  unopened  in  the  little  square  chamber,  its 
pink  satiny  covering  looking  very  much  out  of  place 
there. 

During  these  two  days  the  ways  of  Jessamine  were 
beyond  calculation,  and  there  were  moments  when 
good  Mrs.  McKenzie  gazed  surreptitiously  at  the  in- 
scrutable lassie  with  awe  in  her  eyes,  so  mysterious  did 
the  swiftness  and  variety  of  her  changes  appear  to  the 
even-natured  Scotchwoman.  And  during  this  time  Jes- 
samine kept  herself  very  much  to  herself,  going  little 
abroad,  and  doing  much  hard  work. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day  she  came  into  the 
little  square  sitting  room,  and  caught  sight  of  the  pink 
paper.  Whereupon  she  approached,  and  stood  gazing 
down  upon  it  gloomily.  Her  eyes  had  a  hunted  look, 
and  at  the  moment  the  masklike  coldness  lay  like  a 
blight  over  her  lovely  features. 

"Come,"  said  she,  "let  me  peruse  my  Aunt  Arabella's 
favorite  pages." 

Ere  long  she  was  absorbed.  The  sheets  really  con- 
tained a  good  deal  of  piquant  matter,  skimming,  as 
they  did,  cleverly  along  the  edge  of  libel.  It  appeared 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  11$ 

that  some  scandal — the  nature  of  which  was  insinuated 
rather  than  told — would  shortly  involve  two  exalted 
families  in  very  unpleasant  law  proceedings,  and  the 
members  had  vied  with  each  other  in  scattering  well- 
seasoned  particulars  abroad.  Society  s  Whispers  had  a 
few  delectable  passages  of  its  own — dark  hints,  on  dits, 
and  spicy  innuendo;  the  jaded  interest  of  society  in 
the  dull  season  being  very  well  whipped  up,  and  every 
means  resorted  to  by  which  a  return  to  town  could  be 
rendered  enticing.  The  journal  really  had  a  peculiar 
interest.  Jessamine,  who  had  been  shut  out,  so  to 
speak,  from  "life"  all  these  months,  was  quite  aston- 
ished to  see  how  many  names  of  men  and  women, 
whom,  in  the  great  world,  she  had  pictured  as  mirrors 
of  deportment,  appeared  to  be  trembling  on  the  brink 
of  some  scandalous  exposure.  To  a  quite  unsophis- 
ticated eye,  to  an  untutored  mind,  it  suggested  that 
society  might  be  troubled  by  some  vicious  cancerous 
growth,  whose  far-spreading  roots  could  not  by  any 
possibility  leave  any  member  untouched. 

"It  really  will  not  astonish  me,"  said  she,  "if,  when  I 
turn  the  next  page,  I  find  that  my  Aunt  Arabella  has 
been  discovered  in  a  not  very  reputable  locality  with 
some  antiquated  person  of  the  bluest  blood." 

The  list  of  marriages  was  particularly  interesting. 
It  was  headed  by  an  account  of  a  very  grand  ceremony 
and  important  alliance.  This  was  between  a  middle- 
aged  man  of  enormous  wealth,  who  was  familiarly 
recognized  in  private  circles  as — next  to  Lord  Heriot — 
the  biggest  rake  in  Great  Britain,  and  a  beautiful  girl 
in  her  teens,  whose  family  were  permeated  with  heredi- 
tary insanity,  and  who  was  herself  said — in  strict  con- 


120  A  SUPERFLUOUS  WOMAN. 

fidence — to  have  had  her  moments.  The  object  of  the 
alliance  was  to  connect  two  splendid  land  properties, 
and  to  unite  the  blue  blood,  which  it  was  said  the 
bride  brought,  with  the  immense  amassed  capital  of 
the  bridegroom,  with  the  further  object  of  producing  a 
single  unit  of  the  race  to  inherit  in  his  own  person  all 
these  pleasing  consolidated  privileges.  The  alliance 
had  received  the  highest  and  most  signal  support; 
royalty  had  appeared  at  the  ceremony,  and  all  the  best 
nobility  had  been  present.  As  to  the  clergy,  they  had 
assembled  in  such  august  and  overwhelming  numbers 
that  there  had  hardly  been  a  sentence  apiece  for  them 
to  read  over  the  happy  pair.  The  law  also  had  been 
assiduous  in  confirming  the  alliance,  and  in  tying  the 
two  together  in  a  complication  of  bonds  and  red  tape. 

Jessamine  dropped  the  paper,  and  looked  up  and 
shuddered.  It  was  like  a  breath  of  poisonous  air.  She 
caught  sight  of  the  sky,  and  the  glint  of  occasional 
timid  sunshine  on  the  wet  eaves  of  the  barn,  and  the 
big  tree  near  it.  The  fowl  cackled  below,  and  Maysie 
shouted  in  the  garden. 

She  recalled  the  image  of  Lord  Heriot,  the  greatest 
"catch"  in  Europe,  and  the  most  debauched  of  men — 
of  Lord  Heriot,  with  his  "Hee-hee-hee  /"  his  moist 
palm,  his  vile  eyes,  and  his  heavily  scented  apparel. 
She  thought  of  his  drunken  younger  brother,  of  his  sis- 
ter, a  microcephalous  idiot,  of  his  father  dying  of 
paralysis  and  ungovernable  temper. 

And  then  she  thought  of  Colin.  O  Colin,  "my  Jo," 
with  your  sturdy  planting  and  hoeing,  and  eyes  that 
purely  and  tranquilly  peruse  the  skies! 

"The  greatest  catch  in  Europe !"     The  hateful  face 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  1 21 

was  driven  out  by  that  of  her  noble  peasant.  And 
then  she  stretched  her  young  limbs  in  their  light  cloth- 
ing, and  threw  back  her  head  to  laugh  in  pure  joyous- 
ness.  She  would  go  out  presently  to  Colin's  farm  and, 
though  she  happened  to  know  he  was  away,  she  would 
spend  the  remainder  of  the  afternoon  in  treading  where 
his  steps  were  most  frequent. 

But  there  the  fear  of  old  Rorie  stopped  her.  Her 
cheek  blanched  at  the  thought  of  him,  and  she  stared 
aimlessly  at  the  wall. 

Presently  she  was  back  again  upon  the  page,  and 
that  with  great  absorption,  her  work  neglected,  and 
the  dishes  lying  unwashed  in  the  kitchen;  while  Mrs. 
McKenzie  in  Scotch  patience  glanced  at  the  doorway 
again  and  again,  and  sighed. 

Alas,  poor  Jessamine!  Society  has  a  thousand 
scourges  for  those  who  disentangle  their  will  and 
escape  to  live  a  human  life  humanly.  And  its  corrup- 
tion clings;  it  is  a  disease  not  to  be  vanquished  by  the 
sincerest  willing;  it  eats  into  the  nature,  plays  havoc 
with  the  constancy,  and  vitiates  the  best  intention. 

The  next  portion  of  Society's  Whispers  contained  a 
summing  up  of  the  work  of  the  Parliamentary  Session. 
Members  had  dispersed  very  late  after  their  exhaust- 
ing efforts.  As  far  as  one  could  judge  from  the  report, 
these  endeavors  had  been  directed  in  a  really  hard 
tussle  to  prevent  the  rights  of  humanity  encroaching 
upon  the  rights  of  society,  and  they  had  been  success- 
ful. Besides  which  she  learned  that  the  political  world 
had  been  thrown  into  agitation,  because  one  honorable 
gentleman  had  called  another  honorable  gentleman  a 
liar,  and  that  considerable  time  had  been  spent  in 


122  A    SUPERFLUOUS 

arranging  the  matter.  There  was  not,  it  appeared, 
much  question  about  the  lie;  but  a  nation  trembled  to 
see  Parliamentary  etiquette  endangered. 

She  turned  from  that  impatiently  to  the  "Ladies' 
Column,"  and  learned  that  the  laws  of  fashionable 
beauty  demanded  a  large  excresence  to  be  carried  on 
the  back,  and  waists  to  be  three  inches  longer,  and  the 
heel  more  in  the  middle  of  the  foot. 

After  this  came  "Gossip."  "Gossip"  occupied  ten 
pages  of  the  journal,  and  it  was  these  ten  pages  which 
really  absorbed  Jessamine;  they  ate  into  her  mind, 
they  obliterated  the  present,  they  altered  her  sweet 
face  into  a  semblance  of  Aunt  Arabella's,  as  she  bent 
over  the  page.  Scotland,  the  life  of  the  last  few 
months,  vanished,  as  she  perused  detail  after  detail  of 
the  familiar  world  from  which  she  had  absented  herself. 

Habit  and  familiarity  have  a  terrific  power.  The 
redeemed  tramp,  they  say,  will  leave  his  model  lodg- 
ing house  and  return  to  his  rookery,  the  reclaimed 
drunkard  to  his  cup,  the  assisted  pauper  to  his  wayside 
begging,  the  reformed  thief  to- his  practices,  the  civil- 
ized savage  to  his  nakedness  and  tomahawk,  and,  as  St. 
James  long  ago  remarked  with  vigorous  perspicuity, 
"the  sow  to  its  wallowing  in  the  mire."  Habit  makes 
slaves  of  us  all.  The  least  little  clean  reach  forward  or 
sideways  or  upward  out  of  the  old  rut,  and  after  an 
austere  attempt  to  maintain  the  new  adjustment,  back 
we  drop  to  the  ancient  ways  with  relief  and  even 
ecstasy.  More  mournfully  tragical  than  these  mys- 
terious personal  chains  are  the  inherited  tendencies 
with  which  we  are  born,  the  preformed  habit  which  is 
in  us  at  our  birth.  Who  that  has  striven  against  some 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  123 

evil  inheritance,  that  has  lifted  himself  out  of  it  by 
main  force  of  will,  does  not  know  the  rapture  of  a 
relapsed  moment?  Nature  mocks  us  with  this  trick  of 
reversion.  Behind  the  mounting  steps  of  Evolution 
creeps  the  stealthy  shadow  Atavism,  like  old  guilt 
which  can  never  be  repudiated  any  more.  Now  and 
then  our  assured  humanity  is  terrified  by  seeing  an 
indubitable  startling  seal  of  ancestry  set  on  the  ill- 
starred  frame  of  a  fellow-man.  We  behold  ourselves 
in  him  drawn  back  as  with  irresistible  force  to  our 
abhorred  beginning,  a  woeful  reminder  of  lineage 
branded  on  the  common  frame.  But  though  atavism 
be  rare  in  the  body,  no  mind  can  call  itself  safe  from 
the  reversionary  principle,  nor  dare  to  say  it  has  fath- 
omed the  possibilities  within  itself,  nor  to  affirm  that 
it  has  never  been  startled  and  confused  by  some  un- 
premeditated action  of  its  own.  One  half  of  us  seems 
running  backward  to  embrace  the  unspeakable  ances- 
tor, while  the  rest  reaches  forward  to  the  high  level  of 
posterity. 

This  is  why  arguments  and  preaching  are  secondary 
and  comparatively  useless  matters.  To  make  real  way, 
the  child,  the  plastic  soul,  must  be  taken  and  set  from 
early  years  in  the  rut  which  on  the  whole  will  run  to 
righteousness.  No  soul  beating  upward  from  maimed 
early  years,  with  the  common  hounds  of  ancestry  pur- 
suing him  along  the  road,  but  cries  out  against  the 
social  scheme  which  lent  him  no  fair  start  at  the  com- 
mencement. To  see  to  it  that  every  man  and  woman 
child  shall  receive  their  chance  in  the  running,  the  lit- 
tle feet  being  directed  straight  from  the  starting  point, 
is  work  for  the  statesman  and  philosopher,  and  the 


124  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN'. 

man  who  is  sturdily  striving  to  raise  the  average  of  the 
common  mass  does  more  for  his  nation  and  his  age 
than  any  other  form  of  work  can  do.  But  while  we 
are  thus  every  one  of  us  racing  a  mad  race,  with  the 
whole  wild  jumble  of  our  horrible  predecessors  in  full 
cry  behind,  and  while  we  know  that  our  own  heart  is 
apt  to  play  the  traitor  to  us  as  we  go,  calling  to  us  to 
turn  back  and  join  our  "own  flesh  and  blood"  in  their 
lairs,  we  yet  commonly  permit  the  early  training  of  a 
child  of  rank  to  be  a  simple  pampering  of  the  mouths 
that  will  devour  him  in  the  end,  and  of  the  humbler 
little  one  we  make  the  starting  point  a  sheer  throwing 
of  the  young  soul  to  the  kennels,  so  that  he  finds  the 
whole  ill  brood  abreast  of  him  ere  yet  he  has  set  out  on 
the  way. 

Jessamine  read  and  read  with  absorbed  interest  and 
burning  cheeks.  The  life  that  had  been  leaped  into 
prominence  from  the  recesses  into  which  it  had  been 
thrust:  the  luxury,  the  triumph,  the  round  of  varied 
excitement,  the  flattering  crowd  of  acquaintances  and 
lovers.  The  paper  instructed  her  in  the  movements  of 
a  host  of  well-known  figures.  Society  life,  with  its 
intellectual  strain,  its  heartburnings,  its  peacock  pride, 
its  corroding  personal  ambitions,  its  triviality,  its  splen- 
did prizes  and  dominance,  its  lion  hunting  and  intoxi- 
cating incense,  its  grace  and  fastidious  elegance  and 
the  sense  of  the  upper  circle,  its  sentimentality  and 
perfumes,  its  clever  talk  and  learning  and  piquant 
gossip  and  dangerous  half-breed  immoralities — all  these 
things,  the  whole  of  this  subtle,  penetrating,  highly 
charged  atmosphere,  returned  upon  her  from  the  skill- 
ful pages  as  heavy  perfumes  after  purer  airs. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  125 

She  looked  up  presently,  glancing  out  upon  the  gray 
landscape  with  eyes  that  discerned  it  not.  The  farm- 
yard, with  the  loose  horse  cropping  such  spare  grass  as 
he  could  find,  the  road,  the  stack  in  the  field,  and  the 
winding  path  that  crept  away  to  the  farm  near  the  fir 
wood,  the  hills  behind  with  wisps  of  pale  chalk  cloud 
lying  along  them  and  gray  mists  hiding  their  heads — 
of  all  this  she  saw  nothing.  Her  mind  had  run  through 
the  printed  page  back  to  the  noise  of  the  West  End. 
One  pink  finger  rested  upon  a  single  paragraph  as  she 
sat  motionless,  staring  blindly  from  the  poor  little 
window. 

She  had  set  it  there  with  an  eager  little  start,  with  a 
shooting  of  surprise  and  burning  anger  into  her  cheek 
and  eyes;  and  with  the  same  emphatic  feeling  she  held 
it  there  now. 

"Out,  damned  spot!" — not  an  act,  but  a  tendency ; 
not  a  deed  of  blood  or  shame,  but  the  taint  of  the 
whole  nature,  the  inherited  and  educational  hue  of  the 
mind! 

She  sat  there  with  a  frown  on  her  brow  and  a  hard 
contempt  upon  her  mouth,  a  somber  fury  blazing  in 
her  eyes,  and  her  figure  strangely  erect  and  unbending. 
Then  she  looked  down  again,  and  reread  slowly,  and 
with  narrow,  bitter  attention,  the  paragraph  which 
had  lashed  the  tenderness  out  of  her  face.  It  ran  as 
follows: 

"Lord  H  .  r  .  .  t,  we  understand,  has  taken  his  yacht 
to  Norway.  It  causes  some  surprise  that  his  beautiful 
fiancee — with  whose  name,  we  presume,  we  must  not 
make  free  to  adorn  our  pages — does  not  accompany 


126  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

him  with  her  mother.  But  they  say  the  lovely  blonde 
is  not  a  good  sailor,  and  the  ladies  have  preferred  a 
quiet  trip  to  the  German  baths  to  reinvigorate  them- 
selves after  the  arduosities  of  the  season.  Some  are 
ill-natured  enough  to  remark  that  he  secures  his  .last 
few  weeks  of  ^liberty  before  entering  the  bonds  of 
Hymen ;  but  these  are  the  misanthropes,  the  misogy- 
nists, and  envious.  Certain  it  is  that  the  distinguished 
nobleman  has,  during  the  last  few  weeks,  consoled  him- 
self from  the  access  of  despair  which  he  pre-eminently 
shared  with  society  in  the  early  spring,  owing  to  the 
sudden  and  mysterious  disappearance  of  the  then  queen 
of  society,  Miss  J.  H  .  11  .  .  .  y.  We  regret  to  say  that 
beyond  hearing  that  she  is  well  and  happy,  society  is 
permitted  to  know  nothing  of  the  whereabouts  of  that 
divine  brunette.  They  say  the  house  in  —  —  Square,  so 
well  known  for  its  elegant  appointments  and  recher- 
che" gatherings,  will  be  closed  during  the  next  season. 
Whatever  can  be  the  motive  of  the  truant  fair,  certain 
it  is  that  her  abdicated  throne  is  admirably  filled 
already  by  her  majestic  blond  rival." 

The  thing,  all  claws  and  fangs  and  horror,  leaped  like 
a  wolf  on  Jessamine's  new-born  passion. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  girl  did  not  immediately  make  up  her  mind  to 
return. 

That  glimpse  into  the  old  world  did  two  pieces  of 
mischief.  In  the  first  place,  the  slowly  growing  purity 
in  the  springs  of  her  motives  was  again  sullied.  In  the 
society  she  had  forsaken,  multitudinous  smallness 
served  the  purposes  of  serious  concerns,  and  it  was  all 
recalled  over-vividly  to  her  mind.  Again,  the  perusal 
of  the  pink  sheets  had  given  her  fictitious  strength  by 
accentuating  the  sense  of  contrast.  The  atmosphere 
of  the  grande  dame  returned  to  her,  and  surrounded 
her  by  what  she  felt  as  an  invincible  and  enchanted 
circle. 

This  inward  assurance  of  being  in  possession  of  an 
infallible  charm  against  danger  resulted  in  nothing  but 
an  encouragement  to  play  with  temptation.  That  is 
the  most  subtle  of  delights — to  toy  with  the  alluring. 
From  the  moth  to  the  man  it  is  so.  And  we  should 
all  flutter  round  the  seductive  if  we  were  absolutely 
certain  of  escaping  without  a  burned  wing.  Jessamine 
told  herself  that  her  pinions  were  free,  and  that  at  any 
moment  she  could  beat  them  out  upon  the  air,  un- 
trapped. 

It  follows  inevitably  that  the  creature  existing 
merely  as  a  source  of  pleasing  emotion  in  others,  and 
educated  to  conceive  of  herself  only  in  that  aspect, 

rz; 


128  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

shall  find  herself  particularly  susceptible  to  the  thrills 
of  sensation  when,  in  her  turn,  she  is  the  victim. 

So  that  she  did  not  fly.  The  present  was  delectable, 
and  in  actual  ascendency.  London  was  far,  and  by  no 
means  so  attractive.  Moreover,  the  season  was  long 
since  at  an  end. 

It  was  the  middle  of  August  now,  and  the  days  were 
shorter;  about  nine  in  the  evening  dusk  gathered. 
But  one  evening,  before  the  sun  was  low,  Jessamine 
went  out.  She  took  her  way  across  the  moor;  the 
purple  undulations  of  color  spread  on  every  side, 
mingled  with  patches  of  brown  where  the  cattle  had 
cropped  a  meal.  The  light  throbbed  on  the  red  stems 
of  the  pines,  and  the  sun's  burning  flame  alternately  lit 
up  the  dusky  canopies,  and  let  them  sink  again  in 
shadow.  A  rosy  glory  like  a  fisher's  net  spread  every- 
where, and  in  the  midst  the  girl  walked  with  her  face 
lifted,  her  inscrutable  eyes  large  and  quiet,  and  her 
elastic  step  treading  the  heather  daintily. 

And  Colin,  who  had  been  watching  and  waiting  day 
and  night,  slipped  from  the  cover  of  the  birch  trees, 
and  followed  her. 

"For,"  said  he,  "if  I  may  see  her  face  once  more,  and 
hear  her  silver  tongue,  I  will  lay  me  down  and  die 
most  thankfully." 

Thus  it  came  about  that  a  long  shadow  crept  up 
from  behind  to  the  side  of  Jessamine,  and  Macgillvray, 
with  his  lifted  cap,  came  by. 

"  Good-evening,"  murmured  Jessamine. 

"  It  will  be  weary  for  you  on  the  moor  your  lane." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  night  comes  quicker  now." 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  129 

"  Yes." 

And  then  silence — the  silence  which  speaks  so  much 
faster  and  more  swiftly  than  the  tongue.  And  while 
there  was  silence,  it  seemed  to  Colin  that  his  spirit 
went  out  from  him  and  kissed  her  on  the  mouth,  and 
to  Jessamine  that  she  clung  about  his  neck.  They 
spoke  again  in  fear. 

"  In  June  the  evenings  were  long  enough." 

"  Oh,  yes!  it  was  grand  weather  in  June — grand." 

"  Shall  you  begin  the  harvest  soon  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  think  we  might  be  cutting  the  barley  in  a 
day  or  two." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  it  cut." 

"  I — we — shall  be  most  pleased,  whatever." 

Then  again  Silence  took  them  by  the  hand  and 
walked  between,  and  whispered  the  same  thing  to 
either  heart,  until  the  tongue  leaped  out  to  divide  them. 

"Will  it  be  a  good  crop  this  year?"  asked  Jessamine. 

"Oh,  it  will  be  a  very  light  crop  indeed  this  year." 

"I  am  sorry  for  that.     How  is  it?" 

"The  dry,  hot  season  does  not  do  for  this  sandy  soil. 
It  will  be  taking  a  deal  of  wet." 

"But  we  have  had  some  rain." 

"Just  a  shower  or  two  running  about,  but  nothing 
to  make  any  good." 

Meanwhile,  they  reached  a  gate  leading  to  Dalfaber, 
and  Colin  paused  and  laid  his  hand  upon  it.  He  told 
himself  with  an  ever  fainter  resolve  that  just  such  a  man- 
ner of  man  he  was,  and  no  other;  and  that  just  such  a 
manner  of  woman — made  to  shine  in  some  world  which  he 
surmised  but  could  not  picture — she  was,  and  no  other. 

But  when  he  paused   Jessamine  paused  also.     He 


130  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

leaned  against  the  gate,  his  hand  at  the  latch ;  she 
stood  before  him  mute,  exquisite.  She  felt  him  there; 
his  influence  smiting  like  rays  upon  her.  Her  eyes 
could  not  lift  their  lashes;  she  knew  his  sought  her 
face.  Then  she  felt  him  withdraw  them,  and,  looking 
up,  found  that  he  had  turned  them  upon  the  moor. 

"Good-night,"  murmured  Jessamine. 

"Bide  a  wee!"  cried  Colin  suddenly. 

And  Jessamine,  following  his  glance,  saw  in  the 
midst  of  the  brown  and  purple  land  a  little  tuft  of 
white  heather,  growing  snug  and  small,  close  to  them. 
Colin  vaulted  over  the  gate,  and  stooped  over  it.  He 
gathered  it  prodigally,  leaving  not  a  twig  behind. 
Jessamine,  with  the  words  of  Mrs.  McKenzie  going  up 
and  down  her  mind,  waited.  She  saw  the  moor  stretch- 
ing from  side  to  side,  and  in  the  midst  the  man  stoop- 
ing to  gather  the  symbol  of  his  love.  He  came  back 
presently  with  the  white  sprigs  in  his  hand,  and  a  great 
emotion  in  his  eyes. 

"Will  you  take  it?" 

She  stretched  her  bare,  soft  fingers,  and,  white  and 
warm,  they  rested  for  a  lingering  second  upon  the 
peasant's  coarsened  palm.  Then,  without  a  word,  she 
took  the  sprigs,  and  turned  away. 

Colin  stood  by  the  gate  watching  her  as  she  passed, 
in  the  straight  gray  dress,  on  and  on  along  the  bare 
moor  road,  until  he  lost  her  in  the  mazy  confusion  of 
the'evening  light. 

"O  God,  God,  God!"  murmured  he,  his  passion 
struggling  for  utterance,  and  throwing  itself  out  of  his 
silent  nature,  in  the  word  that  for  him  comprehended 
the  highest  mystery. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

IT  was  twilight  in  the  little  square  sitting  room ;  a 
peat  fire  smoldered  on  the  hearth,  sending  out  a  small 
red  glow,  for  the  evenings  were  apt  to  close  in  coldly 
after  a  hot  noontide.  The  windows  in  the  sitting  room 
were  low  and  small,  but  through  them  one  saw  the 
moon  sailing  slowly  toward  the  west,  and  drawing  after 
it  a  procession  of  pale  ghostly  clouds ;  the  road  glit- 
tered, and  the  moonlight  came  into  the  room  carrying 
a  checkered  shadow. 

The  shadow  was  of  a  tree,  and  it  fell  over  the  figure 
of  Jessamine  seated  motionless  by  the  window.  She 
wore  a  loose  white  wrapper,  and  her  head  leaned 
against  the  pillows  of  the  chair;  she  was  as  still  as 
death ;  her  loosened  hair  fell  over  her  shoulders,  and 
her  hands,  lying  in  her  lap,  covered  something  jealously 
under  them.  Sometimes  the  shadow  of  the  tree  mov- 
ing in  the  wind  climbed  as  high  as  her  breast  and  fell 
down  again. 

There  was  no  sound  at  all  save  the  singing  of  a  little 
wind  in  the  eaves,  and  the  figure  in  the  chair  against 
the  window,  with  its  flowing  white  robe  and  deathly 
stillness,  looked  ghostly  in  the  dusk  light  of  the 
chamber. 

Suddenly  she  moved  and  opened  her  fingers,  and, 
bending  over  them,  raised  what  was  hidden  there  to 
her  lips  and  kissed  it  reverentially. 

»3* 


132  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

It  was  the  white  heather  which  Colin  had  gathered. 

Then  she  dropped  the  sprigs  back  upon  her  knee, 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and,  bending  her  body 
in  a  heap  together,  appeared  to  tremble  convulsively. 
The  checkered  shadow  of  the  tree  covered  her  as  with 
a  net. 

It  is  a  pretty  fiction,  and  one  traceable  to  a  simpler 
and  more  primeval  era  of  emotion,  which  paints  Hu- 
man Passion  with  a  child's  body  wearing  colored  wings. 
That  might  have  suited  less  introspective  and  less  com- 
plicated times  than  our  own.  Ours  it  will  not  suit,  not 
even  cases  less  civilized  and  distorted  than  this  of  Jessa- 
mine Halliday.  For  us  to-day  the  legend  and  the  alle- 
gory are  otherwise. 

For  us  Human  Passion  resembles  a  sphinxlike 
woman,  with  a  gray  hood  drawn  over  her  eyes.  She 
goes  about  the  world  groping  inexorably  for  human 
heart  after  human  heart.  When  she  has  found  what 
she  desires,  she  comes  close  with  a  riddle  upon  her  lips 
and  a  long  knife  in  her  hand,  and  she  propounds  the 
riddle.  While  we  are  thinking  of  it  we  see  and  feel 
the  long  knife  ready.  If  we  guess  it  rightly,  we  are 
rewarded — that  is,  she  hands  us  a  dish  of  herbs  of 
mingled  sweet  and  bitter,  and  clothes  us  in  the  garb  of 
a  pilgrim,  and  sets  our  feet  in  a  path  which  is  suffi- 
ciently rough  and  cruel,  and  in  which,  at  times,  the 
stones  tear  the  flesh  as  we  tread ;  but  down  this  path 
forthwith  we  have  to  march.  If  we  fail  to  read  the 
riddle  right,  she  plunges  the  knife  into  the  heart  up  to 
the  hilt  and  leaves  it  there.  Nor  can  we  die  immedi- 
ately, but  by  slow  degrees,  expiring  of  pain  by  inches. 

Nor  is  it  possible  to  assure  ourselves  that  we  will 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN,  133 

avoid  the  torment  of  that  discipline.  One  day  we  shall 
look  up  and  see  the  figure  of  the  Gray-hooded  Woman 
going  along  the  road  in  front.  We  see  the  long  gray 
shadow  there,  and  we  try  not  to  think  of  it ;  we  turn 
straight  out  of  the  road  to  avoid  it ;  but  there  it  is  in 
front  of  us  again,  the  Gray  Hood  bent,  the  backward 
parts  so  mysterious  and  attractive  that  we  draw  nearer 
and  nearer  until  we  are  close  by.  She  does  not  turn 
her  head.  We  go  ourselves  and  peep  under  the  Gray 
Hood — an  irresistible  something  compels  us — for  a  lit- 
tle, little  moment  to  see  what  is  there.  And  she  looks 
at  us  with  her  eyes. 

And  then  we  move  away  no  more.  We  stand  gaz- 
ing at  her,  and  secrets  pass  out  of  those  eyes  and  out 
of  that  austere  brow  and  sink  down  into  the  heart. 
She  looks  at  us;  she  takes  hold  of  the  conscience;  she 
roots  up  the  being;  she  rakes  it  from  end  to  end  ;  there 
is  not  the  hundredth  part  of  an  inch,  the  remotest  or 
most  insignificant  corner,  that  she  does  not  haul  over 
and  sweep  out.  And  then,  when  we  are  shaken  to 
pieces  and  have  not  a  solid  foothold  left,  when  every 
preconceived  idea  is  smashed  on  the  head  and  every 
ancient  staff  a  broken  reed,  she  propounds  her  riddle 
and  presents  her  knife. 

That  is  Human  Passion  to  an  introspective  and 
developed  race. 

Jessamine  raised  herself  again  with  an  effort  and  left 
her  chair,  and  began  to  move  slowly  up  and  down  the 
room,  pressing  her  handkerchief  against  her  face  and 
eyes,  words  every  now  and  then  escaping  her  lips  un- 
consciously. The  white  gown  swept  the  ground,  her 
hair  tumbled  about  her  in  a  dusky  curtain,  and  her 


134  A    SUPERFLUOUS 

face,  lying  between  like  a  small  silvery  disk,  caught  the 
moonlight.  The  red  glow  in  the  peat  fire  shot  a  broad 
red  ray  up  the  folds  of  her  dress  as  she  passed. 

Every  now  and  then  she  stood  still,  and  then  the 
face  turned  toward  the  window  appeared  cold  and 
frozen  as  in  dismay,  and  dismay  stared  from  her  eye- 
balls. 

"Jessamine,  pink  of  perfection  !"  once  she  burst  out ; 
"own  niece  to  your  Aunt  Arabella!  Is  it  true,  or  is  it 
a  dream?  In  love?  In  love?"  She  hesitated,  and 
then  twice  repeated  a  magical  name.  "Colin  Macgill- 
vray!  Colin  Macgillvray  !"  she  said.  " K  peasant !  " 

Tears  rushed  to  her  eyes ;  the  large  dark  orbs  swam 
and  glittered  in  the  moonlight,  and  two  drops  hung  on 
her  lashes;  her  lips  quivered. 

Penetrating  further  into  the  realm  of  Reality,  she 
had  found  herself  face  to  face  with  the  Unexpected. 
It  became  apparent  to  her  that  one  is  not  always  mas- 
ter of  the  event,  nor  in  the  position  toward  it  of  a 
graceful  enchantress  managing  the  sequences  with 
dexterous,  willful  fingers.  The  event,  she  perceived, 
might  trap  her  in  turn.  She  had  a  frightful  sense  of 
bungling  absurdly.  With  that,  in  a  sudden  change  of 
mood,  she  raised  one  hand,  and  rushed  forward  a  step 
or  two  angrily  as  though  she  would  strike  some  foe  in 
the  face. 

"No  one  warned  me!"  she  cried.  "Oh,  I  am 
trapped !" 

Again  her  anger  melted.  The  rosy  moment  of  Love 
was  still  in  her  memory,  and  her  dazed  eyes  softened 
again  at  the  thought.  She  was  in  an  enchanted  place, 
a  place  where  the  wits  are  distraught  by  visions,  but 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  135 

where  Prudence  kept  plucking  at  her  with  a  cold,  cold 
finger.  There  were  moments  when  Prudence  prevailed, 
and  held  her  agonized  and  chilled.  And  then  she  told 
herself  that  she  must  think ;  and  with  that  she  would 
shut  the  moonlight  out  with  her  hand  before  her  eyes. 
But  her  brain  was  a  blank  place,  and  while  she  sought 
eagerly  for  an  idea,  her  fingers  thrilled  with  a  sudden 
tormenting  memory  of  the  palm  of  Colin,  on  which  she 
had  permitted  them  to  nestle. 

Shivering  again  convulsively,  she  moved  toward  the 
table,  and,  drawing  a  chair  close,  sat  down  beside  it, 
leaning  her  arms  and  body  upon  it,  so  as  to  gain  the 
perfect  quiescence  which  was  needed  before  she  could 
cope  with  her  thoughts  and  emotion.  Her  raised  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  slow  depressing  drift  of  thin  clouds 
in  the  path  of  the  moon. 

"Of  course  I  must  go  home  at  once,"  said  she; 
"back  to — Aunt  Arabella" 

So  spake  the  well-taught  schoolgirl  to  the  growing 
woman.  But  her  whole  nature  cried  out  in  rebellion 
against  her  tutored  tongue.  Her  brain,  suddenly 
active,  inquired  why  such  a  return  was  obligatory. 
The  mere  statement  of  the  commonplace  inevitable 
remedy  called  into  being  a  hundred  reasons  for  not 
accepting  it.  Some  ways  which  decorum  presents  to 
us  as  right  ways  offend  the  nature  by  their  miserable 
union  of  the  obvious  and  the  distasteful.  We  tell  our- 
selves that  flames  and  swords  are  better.  Besides, 
Jessamine's  revolt  against  Aunt  Arabella  had  been  a 
movement  of  the  best  part  of  her  nature,  and  was  she 
to  stultify  it  now  by  a  return?  Circumstance  sus- 
pends us  by  the  hair  over  the  lake  of  pitch  from  which 


I36  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

she  has  drawn  us,  and  puts  her  choice  to  us  in  the 
moment. 

Jessamine  had  a  love  of  adventure,  and  within  this 
adventure  were  alluring  possibilities  which  thrilled 
while  they  terrified.  Every  prudent  dictate  was  ruined 
and  confused  by  a  colored  halo  of  sweet  reminiscence 
and  still  sweeter  promise ;  in  her  heart  were  both 
delight  and  fear,  longing  and  foreboding,  at  once.  She 
tried  to  summon  into  clearer  prominence  the  chiller 
self-repressing  prose,  but  the  thrill  triumphed  ;  she  was 
young,  and  it  was  her  first  taste  of  a  common  human 
experience.  While  her  lips  shaped  themselves  to  cool 
resolutions  feeling  overflowed. 

"Oh,  oh,  oh!"  she  cried  in  sudden  mighty  emotion, 
as  primeval  as  that  of  Eve,  "let  me  give  myself  to  him, 
or  I  die!" 

The  words  out  of  her  lips,  she  snatched  herself  to- 
gether with  a  shrinking  gesture,  as  though  someone 
hailed  blows  about  her  ears.  Impossible — impossible! 
Most  miserable  Jessamine  !  Hush! 

Whereat  her  heart  rushed  welcoming  toward  that 
very  word  "  impossible  ! "  and  accepted  it.  For  the  one 
seductive  and  ever  more  seductive  thing  is  the  impos- 
sible thing.  Once  let  the  heart  fix  there  its  desire,  and 
it  may  not  relinquish  it  again.  Jessamine  opened  the 
window  of  her  mind,  and  drew  the  bird  within,  and 
held  it  in  a  full-grown  grasp  and  knew  her  treasure, 
even  though  she  cried  over  it  the  feeble  tears  of  a 
girl. 

For,  indeed,  bitter  slow  tears  began  one  by  one  to 
drop  over  her  cheeks. 

"I  cannot  understand  it,"  murmured  she;  "God  is 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  137 

mocking  me.  Supposing  they  knew — my  Aunt  Ara- 
bella and  all  those !" 

Even  as  she  told  herself  she  could  not  understand, 
her  heart  began  swiftly  to  spell  the  heart's  own  lesson. 

The  impossible  is  the  important  thing  in  life — the 
thing  that  carries  us  furthest,  that  gives  us  power 
to  achieve  or  power  to  resign,  that  shakes  all  our 
thoughts  apart  and  discriminates. 

But  this  emotional  creature  had  no  defenses  of  the 
mind.  She  had  been  taught  not  to  discriminate,  but 
to  ignore;  neither  had  she  been  trained  into  any 
heroism  of  will. 

The  new  phase  of  her  love  was  introducing  already 
strange  companions  within,  conjuring  them  out  of  her 
maimed  nature  as  by  some  cruel  trick.  All  the  soft 
luxury  into  which  she  had  been  trained  revolted  against 
the  austerity  amid  which  the  dazzling  figure  of  Love 
had  chosen  to  alight.  She  could  not  support  the  con- 
ditions which  he  offered,  nor  carry  the  burden  he 
imposed. 

Neither  could  she  endure,  on  the  other  hand,  to  set 
the  knife  at  the  root  of  her  happiness.  She  was  a 
divided  thing,  and  each  part  cried  against  the  other. 

Moreover,  what  she  had  of  clear  and  truthful  in  her 
undeveloped  character  asserted  roundly  that  her  duty 
to  Colin  forbade  her  to  undertake  a  position  for  which 
she  knew  herself  to  be  unfitted.  There !  Close  on 
that,  too  small  to  be  flung  out,  subtle,  dark,  came  the 
suggestion  of  a  sweet  falseness  to  Colin,  to  decide  noth- 
ing, to  drift  on  and  on — to  what? 

Jessamine  laid  her  hand  over  her  eyes,  and  moaned 
as  she  learned  her  lesson — the  lesson  of  the  mastery  of 


I38  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

feeling — reading  the  inconceivable  thing  within  herself 
in  lines  too  plain  for  her  mistaking.  The  moonlight 
could  not  quench  the  crimsoning  of  her  cheeks  when 
she  looked  up  again. 

"There  are  two  Mes,"  said  she  in  a  frightened  whis- 
per. "There  is  the  Jessamine  that  was  ready  to  sell 
herself  to  Lord  Heriot  for  a  title  and  the  diamonds, 
and  there  is  the  Jessamine  who  is  ready  to  throw  her- 
self at  the  feet  of  a  peasant  to-morrow." 

The  words  being  spoken,  her  lips  drew  in  unto  a  nar- 
row outlet,  shrinking  from  the  thing  they  had  uttered ; 
and  she  clapped  her  little  sunburned  hand  over  them, 
as  though  to  entrap  and  enforce  what  had  escaped, 
while  her  wild  eyes,  conscious  of  the  world,  cast  a 
timid,  fearful  glance  about  the  chamber. 

In  truth,  she  had  fled  from  her  London  experiences 
only  to  fall  into  as  indecorous  a  piece  of  human  passion 
as  ever  startled  the  world.  There  was  "nothing  in  him 
than  his  worruk,"  his  genuineness,  and  massive  sim- 
plicity; and  she,  with  all  her  undisciplined  impulses, 
fought  frantically  against  but  one  part  of  her  surren- 
der— that  is,  the  chain. 

"I  can't  see  anything,"  she  said;  "I  can't  tell  one 
thing  from  another.  Is  this  passion?  Oh,  my  lover — 
my  lover!" 

The  moon  slowly  edged  out  of  the  window  opposite 
which  Jessamine  sat,  and  the  shadow  of  the  tree 
climbed  in  gigantic  effigy  up  the  wall. 

The  girl  had  withdrawn  her  hand  from  her  mouth. 
What  was  the  use  of  laying  it  there?  The  words  she 
had  uttered  returned  to  her  from  the  sides  of  the 
chamber,  and  they  escaped  out  of  the  window  and 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WO  MAX.  139 

were  anyone's  possession.  She  leaned  her  chin  upon 
her  hands  and  stared  into  the  darkness,  and  heedlessly 
muttered  and  murmured  on.  Before  her  on  the  table 
lay  the  white  heather. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  "  if  I  think  of  it  at  all,  that  God 
must  be  too  great  to  mind — to  be  angry.  Oh,  my  God  ! 
I  feel  that  I  could  sell  the  world  for  him !  And  if  I 
went  to  him  because  of  the  drawing  of  my  heart,  and 
clung  to  him,  would  it  seem  a  wicked  act  for  which  I 
must  be  punished?  Oh,  my  God!  my  God!  you 
should  have  made  me  different  if  so!  For  I  feel  him 
drawing  me,  and  I  long  with  every  nerve  to  go.  And 
if  I  did  my  duty  and  ran  away  from  him,  and  to-morrow 
in  a  church  married  myself  with  the  clergyman's  bless- 
ing to  Lord  Heriot,  would  it  seem  a  good  act  for  which 
I  shall  be  rewarded?  Oh,  my  God!  if  that  is  so,  you 
should  have  made  me  different !" 

Her  praying  was  revolt.  And  that  was  the  first  ear- 
nest petition  to  invisible  powers  which  had  ever  left 
her  heart.  The  conventional  being  broken  through 
she  found  sincerity  within,  and  with  it  rebellion.  Not 
the  mere  teasing  willfulness  with  which  she  had 
delighted  to  confuse  society,  but  a  heart-felt  resistance 
to  an  order  which  she  suddenly  found  was  laying  a  cold 
prosaic  claim  upon  her  own  intimate  devices  for  warm 
and  natural  joy. 

And  order  to  her  was  summed  up  in  the  figure  of 
Aunt  Arabella.  God  and  the  social  laws  might  lie  be- 
hind, but  Aunt  Arabella  officiated  in  the  foreground. 
The  idea  of  this  hated  incarnation  of  religion  and 
society  piercing  with  her  small  metallic  eye  to  her  own 
scene  of  disorderly  tumult  thrust  her  upon  a  harsh 


14°  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

mood.  She  struck  her  hands  sharply  upon  the  table, 
breaking  the  sob  in  her  throat  by  a  laugh. 

For,  indeed,  a  sense  of  the  inadequacy  of  all  she  had 
been  taught  as  a  guiding  principle  suddenly  affected 
her — the  incommensurateness  of  any  reason  for  good- 
ness with  which  she  was  acquainted,  with  the  difficulty 
of  the  effort.  Goodness  to  her  was  synonymous  with 
prim  negations,  and  she  glowed  with  life.  It  made  her 
bitter  to  think  with  what  a  defenseless  heart  and  ill- 
furnished  mind  she  had  set  out  on  her  quest  for  reality, 
and  how  among  her  range  of  acquaintances  there  was 
scarcely  a  friend  whose  wisdom  she  could  trust  with  a 
priceless  secret. 

"I  have  never  had  anyone  to  tell  things  to  save 
Aunt  Arabella  and" — she  paused,  struck  dumb  for  the 
moment  by  an  idea  of  import — "and — Dr.  Corner- 
stone." 

With  the  thought  of  Dr.  Cornerstone  her  emotion 
passed  into  a  new  phase;  her  heart  leaped  in  her 
breast,  and  her  face  became  transfigured.  Whatever 
this  phase  of  emotion  was,  it  appeared  to  carry  her  from 
the  realm  of  agitation  and  struggle.  She  remained 
perfectly  still,  intent  upon  something  which  erased  the 
whole  problem  by  diverting  the  attention  to  a  plane  of 
thought  beyond  it;  but  not  for  long.  These  abstract, 
uplifted  moments  could  never  be  sustained  ones  in  her 
mind. 

She  caught  her  hands  up  with  a  frightened  cry,  and 
sank  forward,  burying  her  face  within  them. 

"I  dare  not!"  she  cried,  "I  dare  not!  My  whole 
nature  chooses  him  before  all  the  world  for  my  lover. 
I  prefer  his  strength  and  his  simplicity  and  his  whole- 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  141 

someness  to  all  the  culture  in  London.  I  am  sick  of 
culture.  But  I  dare  not !  DARE  NOT  !  It  isn't  because 
I  am  good.  I  am  not  good  any  more." 

To  be  in  revolt  was  the  recognized  form  of  evil,  and 
Jessamine  had  nothing  in  herself  to  oppose  to  the 
idea.  A  code  of  rules  is  the  least  useful  baggage  with 
which  the  character  can  set  out  on  its  mysterious  jour- 
ney; it  will  probably  find  them  to  be  pure  impedi- 
menta. What  is  wanted  is  a  furnishing  in  qualities, 
and  then  the  conscience  may  be  trusted  to  solve  its 
problems  for  itself.  Disaster  and  error  spring  not  so 
much  from  what  is  done  as  from  hesitation  in  the  will 
and  fevered  incoherency  in  the  choice. 

Jessamine  was  conscious  of  temptation  either  way. 
It  had  been  easy  to  escape  from  the  Heriot  entangle- 
ment in  London ;  but  in  view  of  the  temptation  which 
met  her  here,  and  the  fearsome  attraction  of  it,  the 
Heriot  entanglement  (with  the  Church  and  clergy  be- 
hind, and  the  support  of  society)  appeared  almost  as 
the  path  of  virtue. 

How  was  she  to  discriminate?  Everything  within 
herself  appeared  ready  to  play  the  traitor  because  she 
had  no  notion  to  what  she  should  be  true.  Her  mind, 
however,  retained  energy  enough  for  that  self-derision 
and  sorrowful  candor  which  dictate  the  terms  of  treach- 
erous capitulation  which  the  soul  makes. 

"At  least,  let  me  be  true,"  said  she  mournfully  to 
herself;  "let  me  be  true  as  death  for  once.  It  isn't 
goodness  in  myself  that  guides  me.  I  haven't  a  guide. 
I  haven't  a  reason.  There  is  nothing  that  I  know 
about  by  which  I  can  direct  myself  and  control  myself, 
except  just  vanity  and  custom  and  fear  of  Aunt  Ara- 


I42  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

bella  and  her  set.  If  I  escape,  it  is  not  because  I 
am  good ;  it  is  because  I  am  vain.  Praying  is  no  help. 
When  I  pray,  I  pray  that  God  would  help  me  to  Colin. 
As  to  Dr.  Cornerstone,  I  cannot  confess  to  him.  I  am 
afraid — because — I  am  sure  I  don't  know — but  some- 
thing tells  me  he  might  say  something  that  would  help 
me  to  be — set  things  in  queer  fresh  lights  that  seem 
good  lights — help  me — heip  me — 

She  snatched  herself  suddenly  from  her  seat,  hor- 
ror— the  horror  of  outraged  vanity — in  her  face. 

"Like  any  housemaid"  she  whispered,  with  a  thrill  of 
fear  and  disgust. 

From  which  terrible  moment  she  gathered  herself  at 
last.  To  act  in  common  with  common  natures  was  the 
one  thing  which  the  particulars  of  her  education  caused 
her  clearly  to  repudiate.  The  word  "housemaid"  con- 
quered for  the  moment.  She  had  been  taught  to 
credit  common  people  with  feelings  unworthy  of  her- 
self. That  decided  her — for  the  moment.  And  yet 
the  less  conscious  self  which  haunts  with  criticism  the 
more  conscious,  deciding,  acting  self  did  not  acquit  her 
now.  She  had  no  comfort  nor  release  from  self- 
disdain.  Rising  from  her  seat  with  a  soft  rustle  of  her 
garments,  and  with  a  composed,  undulating  movement 
of  her  figure,  she  approached  a  second  and  smaller  win- 
dow of  the  room,  about  which  a  little  moonlight  still 
played.  Her  face  was  tired  and  cold  as  snow  that  has 
lain  three  days,  and  her  voice  was  bitter  and  thin. 

"Of  course  I  shall  keep  straight,"  she  said;  "of 
course  I  shall  go  on  right  enough.  Not  because  I  am 
good,  however,  but  just  for  vanity's  sake.  I  must  have 
praise." 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  143 

Then  she  turned  and  walked  to  the  door.  Her  hand 
was  on  the  latch,  when,  with  a  new  impulse,  she  looked 
back  on  the  little  room  which  was  so  dull,  but  which, 
nevertheless,  glowed  with  so  much  thought  and  feel- 
ing, and  her  eyes  swam  again  with  tears.  A  presenti- 
ment lay  heavy  on  her  heart,  a  clear  foreboding  of  the 
inevitable  lying  before  her,  of  something  toward  which 
she  was  destined  to  advance,  and  which  beyond  this 
present  turmoil  and  color  waited  fatally  and  cold. 
Would  she  have  the  power  to  escape  it?  The  question 
shot  beyond  consciousness,  dimly  hovered  in  her  brain, 
disappeared,  and  left  her  heart  and  her  eyes  empty  and 
distraught. 

Then  the  door  closed,  and  the  small  square  chamber 
was  left  silent.  The  shadow  of  the  tree  had  long  been 
expunged,  and  the  moonlight  was  drawing  slowly  away 
from  the  second  window. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  next  morning  Jessamine  went  about  like  one 
benumbed  in  feeling;  exhaustion  for  the  moment  had 
emptied  her  of  passion.  Mrs.  McKenzie  watched  the 
girl's  face,  sealed  as  it  was  by  a  new  reticence,  and 
shook  her  wise  head. 

When  the  midday  meal  was  over,  Jessamine  went 
out.  It  was  a  real  harvest  day — a  day  of  delicious 
heat  and  quiet  airs;  the  farmers  had  been  up  from  the 
earliest  hours  reaping,  and  the  fallen  corn  lay  about 
the  fields  in  yellow  bundles,  while  everywhere  along 
the  standing  edges  passed  in  persistent  rhythmic  move- 
ment the  figures  of  mower  and  gatherer.  Jessamine 
perceived  that  the  harvest  had  really  begun,  and 
remembered  that  Colin  would  certainly  be  cutting  his 
barley.  Yet  she  turned  up  the  road  in  the  direction 
away  from  Dalfaber.  Had  it  been  possible  to  lie  down 
under  the  trees  in  some  sequestered  spot,  and  softly  to 
sleep  herself  out  of  existence,  she  would  have  been 
thankful. 

The  way  she  chose  was  one  not  much  frequented ; 
it  led  over  the  moor-covered  side  of  one  of  the  hills, 
and  gradually  dwindled  to  a  mere  straggling  path 
which  vanished  among  heather. and  bowlders.  At  first 
her  idea  had  been  to  reach  some  high  crag,  and  at  least 
to  lift  herself  as  far  as  possible  beyond  the  region  of 
her  turmoil  and  passion,  but  her  limbs  refused  the 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  MS 

task;  she  was  enfeebled  by  yesterday's  emotion,  and 
needed  quiescence  from  effort.  So  that  midway  up 
the  path  she  paused,  and  sat  down  upon  a  heather- 
covered  rock.  The  place  was  not  far  from  a  small  cot- 
tage— a  tiny  tumble-down  house  which  had  no  preten- 
sion to  be  called  a  farm,  but  where,  nevertheless,  the 
morsel  of  surrounding  land  showed  signs  of  cultivation. 
It  was  more  like  a  picturesque  hovel  than  anything 
else,  and  yet  had  an  aspect  of  comfort.  There  was 
even  a  little  outhouse,  and  one  or  two  other  accompani- 
ments to  the  meagerest  form  of  agriculture.  A  burn 
tumbled  down  the  hill  by  the  side,  and  a  water-butt 
placed  across  the  channel  served  to  arrest  the  stream, 
and  to  form  a  convenience  for  washing  purposes;  and 
then  the  water  leaped  out  of  the  other  side  of  the  butt, 
and  continued  its  flow  with  a  cheerful  murmur. 

Jessamine  liked  the  sound ;  of  late  the  vast  silence 
of  the  country  had  oppressed  her,  and  now  she  sat 
clown  willingly  within  hearing  of  the  brook's  chatter, 
because  it  broke  up  and  dispersed  the  settling  of 
thought  upon  speculative  ideas  and  uprooting  ques- 
tions. After  she  had  been  seated  there  for  some  time, 
the  door  of  the  cot  opened,  and  a  little  child  came  out, 
and  ran  toward  the  burn.  She  had  a  tin  pail  in  one 
hand,  and  in  the  other  a  rag  and  two  or  three  common 
spoons.  Upon  her  small  face  was  a  look  in  miniature 
of  housewifely  bustle.  Having  reached  the  side  of  the 
butt,  she  dipped  the  pail  in,  deftly  preventing  herself 
from  following  it  headlong,  and  pulled  it  out  again  full. 
Then  she  sat  down,  and  drew  it  cautiously  between 
her  sturdy  bare  legs,  and  forthwith  proceeded  to  dip 
the  spoons  in  the  water,  and  to  rub  them  clean  with 


146  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

the  rag.  All  her  actions  were  deft  and  careful — a 
delicious  parody  upon  grown-up  humanity— and  Jessa- 
mine watched  with  increasing  interest  and  admiration. 
Her  beauty  and  vigor  were  great,  and  she  appeared  to 
be  but  five  years  old.  She  had  firm  limbs  and  a 
velvety  golden-brown  skin,  through  which  showed  the 
healthy  red ;  her  hair  of  dark  brown  curled  about  her 
head,  and  underneath  the  pretty  tangle  looked  out  an 
alert  pair  of  brown  eyes;  but  it  was  the  content  of  the 
child,  the  happy  activity  and  unconscious  joy  in  being 
and  faculty,  which  best  expressed  the  exuberant  whole- 
someness  of  her  nature. 

Jessamine  watched  the  little  creature  with  growing 
admiration,  and  then  with  yearning.  An  inexpressible 
look  came  into  her  eyes — one  which  may  be  seen  often 
in  the  eyes  o'f  women,  but  which  was  new  in  Jessa- 
mine's; she  continued  to  watch  until  all  the  spoons 
were  rubbed  up  to  satisfaction,  and  with  every  move- 
ment the  mingled  delight  and  longing  increased. 

"Little  one,"  she  said  at  last,  in  a  coaxing  tone. 

The  child  turned  her  brown  curly  head,  and  opened 
her  eyes  wide  in  the  direction  of  the  sound.  Perceiv. 
ing  the  beautiful,  smiling  stranger,  she  stared  unwink- 
ingly  for  full  twenty  seconds. 

"Come  and  speak  to  me,"  called  Jessamine  from  the 
other  side  of  the  burn. 

Then  the  child  very  slowly  and  deliberately  drew  her 
sturdy  legs  up,  rose  from  the  ground  with  great  care 
as  to  upsetting  the  pail,  lifted  it,  and  carrying  it  to  a 
safe  distance,  emptied  away  the  dirty  water.  After 
which  she  picked  up  the  wet  rag,  and  put  it  in  the 
pail;  then  she  took  the  clean  spoons  in  the  other  hand, 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  147 

and,  having  now  finished  her  preparations,  approached 
the  burn  and  stood  on  the  side  opposite  to  Jessamine, 
with  her  bare  legs  and  firm  little  feet  well  planted, 
staring  reflectively.  Jessamine  smiled,  and  sought  for 
a  coaxing  phrase.  But  the  child  saved  her  the  trouble. 
Without  removing  her  eyes  she  uttered  an  ecstatic 
crow,  and  shouted : 

"Granny,  come  and  see  the  bonnie  wifie!" 

This  summons  was  followed  by  the  appearance  of  a 
woman  at  the  cottage  door.  Seeing  the  beautiful 
stranger,  she  hurried  forward  with  apology  upon  her 
lips. 

"O  Bessie,  that's  a  naughty  bairnie !  Staring  and 
talking  to  the  bonnie  leddy !"  said  she. 

"Don't  take  her  away,"  said  Jessamine;  "I  like  to 
see  and  hear  her.  Come  over  the  burn,  little  creature." 

But  the  child  shrank  behind  her  "granny,"  and 
peeped  out  roguishly  from  her  skirt,  shutting  up  her 
eyes  and  making  a  little  mouth,  and  playing  off  her 
coquetries  in  the  manner  of  babies. 

Jessamine  laughed,  and  turned  to  the  woman. 

"What  a  beautiful  child  she  is!"  said  she.  "What 
glorious  eyes — when  she  is  kind  enough  to  open  them ! 
What  fine  firm  limbs!  How  old  is  she?" 

"Three  years,  ma'am." 

"Three!  I  thought  she  might  be  six,  and  was  cer- 
tainly five." 

"Aye,  she's  a  bonnie  bairnie  and  a  good  one," 
returned  the  woman  with  pride  ;  "and  she  can  do  for  me 
already.  Ay,  she  knows  how  to  make  herself  useful !" 

"Is  it  your  grandchild?"  asked  Jessamine,  looking  at 
the  splendid  little  creature  with  renewed  admiration. 


148  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

The  woman  did  not  immediately  answer;  she  lifted 
her  apron,  and  appeared  to  wipe  off  from  her  lips  some 
shrinking  apology,  while  her  eyes  deviated  for  a 
moment  from  Jessamine's  inquiring  face.  Then  they 
returned  with  a  glance  which  shyly  appealed  to  a  pos- 
sible knowledge  within  the  beautiful  lady's  breast  of 
matters  which  are  frankly  human,  but  which  do  not 
come  under  the  range  of  the  respectable. 

"Well,  no,  ma'am,"  she  said;  "I'm  just  caring  for 
the  bairnie.  I'm  no  relation,  but  she  calls  me  granny 
because  I'm  fond  of  her.  She  is  not  a  legitimate  child, 
ma'am." 

"She  does  you  credit,"  returned  Jessamine  with 
feeling. 

And  then  she  turned  away  with  misty  eyes  that 
looked  at  some  far-away  thought. 

"Have  her  parents  forsaken  her?"  asked  she  pres- 
ently. 

"Oh,  no,  ma'am  !"  returned  the  woman,  scandalized  ; 
"the  father  is  very  much  taken  up  with  her  indeed. 
He  comes  every  week  and  brings  me  the  money.  He 
is  a  carpenter  in  the  near  town,  ma'am,  and  the  mother 
is  in  service  at  Edinburgh.  She  sends  me  the  money 
regularly,  and  she  will  just  be  coming  to  see  the  bairnie 
when  she  will  have  a  chance." 

"Are  they  going  to  be  married?"  asked  Jessamine, 
with  the  astonishment  of  one  taking  a  peep  through  the 
open  threshold  of  a  new  world. 

"Oh,  no,  ma'am.  The  mother  is  just  in  service,  and 
the  father  is  just  a  man  busy  at  the  carpentering  and 
keeping  his  old  grandfather." 

"Is  he  a  good  man?" 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  149 

"He  will  be  very  steady  and  hardworking,  ma'am. 
And  he  will  be  very  fond  of  the  bairnie." 

Jessamine  sat  silent,  her  eyes  full  of  thoughts.  The 
woman,  after  looking  at  her  hesitatingly,  drew  softly 
away  to  her  work,  and  the  child  began  to  play.  With 
the  cheerful  inconsequence  of  three  years  she  chose  to 
dig  up  the  ground  with  one  of  the  three  spoons  she  had 
just  so  deftly  cleaned.  But  presently  a  wonderful  thing 
happened.  The  beautiful  mysterious  stranger  crossed 
the  brook  and  came  close  to  her,  and  dropped  upon  her 
knees,  and  encircled  her  with  her  arms.  It  seemed  to 
the  little  child  like  the  closing  of  soft  scented  wings  and 
shadowy  sweetness  and  delicious  wonder  about  her. 

"Will  you  kiss  me,  little  one?"  asked  the  tenderest 
voice  she  had  ever  heard. 

And  she  put  out  her  red  lips  and  nestled  her  red 
cheek  against  the  marvelous  face  with  the  swimming 
eyes,  and  kissed  it  readily  enough. 

How  Jessamine  loved  the  beautiful  little  mortal  who 
had  been  born  into  this  world  out  of  wedlock!  The 
thought,  like  some  waif  and  stray  into  an  ancestral  man- 
sion, ran  into  her  heart  and  hid  there.  She  got  up  and 
went  down  the  hill,  and  took  the  way  toward  Dalfaber. 

It  was  getting  toward  evening,  and  the  reaping  day 
was  almost  over.  She  walked  down  to  Macgillvray's 
land,  as  was  her  custom,  and  seated  herself  upon  a 
bank  near  his  barley  field  to  look  on.  As  she  sat  there 
watching  from  afar,  she  felt  like  one  upon  the  edge  of 
the  river  of  death  who  turns  a  last  look  at  life.  And 
the  picture  of  life  which  she  saw  was  calm  and  beauti- 
ful, and  weaved  from  Nature's  quiet  moments. 

She  saw  the  yellow  waving  corn,  into  which  the 


I £0  A   SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN. 

mower  thrust  his  scythe,  and  at  his  feet  were  the  fallen 
glittering  heads;  leaning  across  this  more  distant  pict- 
ure was  a  rowan  tree,  with  dark  leaves  and  scarlet 
berries;  on  the  right  was  a  gloomy  edge  of  forest- 
covered  hills,  and  on  the  left  a  beautiful  bright  soft 
range  meeting  them  and  fading  into  an  exquisite  far- 
ness  of  blue  and  opal  tints;  above  that  were  the  piled- 
up  clouds  and  brilliant  ether.  The  figure  of  the  mower 
passed  along  with  a  strong  swaying  grace  of  movement, 
and  the  sunburn  showed  on  his  cheek  and  neck;  over 
him  the  sunshine  rested  like  a  homely  benediction ;  it 
caught  also  the  figure  of  the  woman  following  after 
him  in  her  dun-colored  dress.  Macgillvray  was  a  fav- 
orite with  children,  and,  when  he  worked,  a  little  cluster 
of  bare-legged  mites  were  apt  to  play  about  him  ;  they 
pattered  after  him  now,  their  fair  hair  and  bare  legs 
twinkling  in  the  light.  Two  older  boys  stood  motion- 
less side  by  side,  the  sunshine  on  their  heads  and  about 
their  bare  legs,  absorbed  in  admiration  of  the  mower. 
Over  all  the  net  of  light  fell  with  its  softening  and  unit- 
ing power,  and  through  all  ran  the  sense  of  people  at 
wholesome  work,  joyful,  kindly  one  to  another.  The 
brown  thatched  cottage  also  was  near,  and  a  white 
kitten  came  and  played  about  the  peat  stack;  behind, 
two  red  horses,  attracted  by  the  fallen  corn,  came 
lumbering  up  to  stare  from  a  distance;  and  round 
every  part  was  the  softer  background  of  blue  hills,  and 
pine  woods,  and  tinted  moors. 

Against  this  beautiful  sober  picture  Jessamine  rested 
her  overtired  heart  as  one  who  earns  a  little  respite, 
but  who  hears  a  sound  like  the  running  edge  of  the 
deathly  river. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  151 

Presently  the  picture  changed.  The  woman  in  the 
dun-colored  dress  left  off  gathering,  and  rested  her 
arms  on  her  hips.  Colin  stopped  also,  and  drew  his 
scythe  out  from  the  corn  and  leaned  upon  it ;  Jessa- 
mine could  hear  his  voice  as  he  talked  with  the  woman. 
Then  the  latter  began  to  move  away  from  the  field, 
calling  and  beckoning  the  children  as  she  walked,  and 
these  went  running  in  a  little  fluttering  cloud  after  her. 
Colin  resumed  his  work  alone.  But  it  seemed  to  Jessa- 
mine that  as  the  woman  moved  away  he  had  turned 
and  looked  at  her.  And  she  got  up  from  the  bank  and 
went  slowly  down  the  field  toward  him.  She  fancied 
as  she  came  up  that  he  welcomed  her  with  the  old  air 
of  courteous  indifference,  and  at  this,  with  the  most 
inconsequent  of  chills,  she  felt  that  the  agonies  of  the 
few  past  days  had  been  gratuitous,  yet  longed  to  be 
assured  that  they  were  not. 

For  not  one  of  the  human  kind,  having  tasted  it, 
would  barter  love,  with  all  its  sharpness,  for  an  empty 
peace. 

"It  is  a  grand  harvest  day,"  said  Macgillvray,  desist- 
ing for  a  moment  from  his  work,  and  lifting  his  cap. 

"Yes.  The  woman  has  left  you.  Are  you  going  on 
alone?" 

"Well,  yes.  I  am  bound  to  finish  before  night;  but 
the  harvest  day  is  really  over,  and  the  little  ones  went 
in  for  supper." 

"The  sun  shines  still." 

"And  while  it  shines  I  must  be  shearing." 

"You  have  no  one  to  gather  for  you?" 

"No  one."  He  smiled.  "I  must  gather  for  myself 
after  the  shearing  is  done." 


152  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"I  could  gather  for  you." 

He  raised  himself  from  his  leaning  posture  and  stood 
erect,  looking  at  her  with  a  ray  in  his  eye  that  reached 
her  heart. 

"It  will  be  too  tiring  for  you." 

"No,"  said  Jessamine  with  desperate  joy;  "I  am 
strong." 

"But  you  will  not  know  how." 

"Yes;  for  I  watched." 

"Indeed,  you  do  not  know  how  it  will  tire  you." 

"Let  me  try.  I  cannot  bind,  but  I  can  gather,"  said 
Jessamine  meekly. 

"Thank  you ;  you  are  most  kind." 

He  resumed  his  work  without  further  argument,  and 
she  placed  herself  behind  as  she  had  seen  the  woman 
do,  and  followed,  picking  up  the  corn  as  it  fell  from  his 
scythe  and  laying  it  aside  in  a  large  bundle.  It  was 
very  still,  not  a  sound  could  be  heard  save  the  long 
swish  of  the  scythe  through  the  barley;  he  did  not 
speak,  and  when  they  reached  the  end  of  the  row  he 
merely  stopped  and  glanced  over  her  work  with  a  smile. 
Then  he  went  back  to  the  other  side  of  the  field  and 
began  again.  Not  much  remained  to  be  "sheared." 

After  an  hour's  steady,  silent  work  the  corn  had  all 
fallen,  and  mower  and  gatherer  rested  from  their  toil. 
For  Jessamine  the  hour  was  one  of  benign  calmness,  a 
restoration  to  sanity,  a  beautiful  tranquillized  moment, 
within  which  she  would  willingly  abide.  The  air  of  the 
fields,  the  peace  of  Colin's  kindness  and  presence,  the 
delight  of  necessary  work  shared  and  accomplished — 
these  things  sufficed,  because  the  whole  kingdoms  of 
the  world  have  nothing  better  to  bestow. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  153 

"I  cannot  bind,"  said  Jessamine,  standing  still  and 
pushing  at  the  last  fallen  sheaf  with  her  slender  foot. 

"No;  I  will  just  do  that  myself,  and  then  I  must 
stock  them." 

"Show  me  the  way,  and  let  me  bind  too." 

"Very  well — if  you  are  not  tired." 

"I  am  not  tired." 

"See,  then.  You  will  rjust  take  a  little  bit  of  the 
straw  first." 

Jessamine  knelt  down  and  pulled  a  piece  out  as  he 
directed.  Macgillvray,  stooping  near  her,  did  the 
same. 

"Now  watch,"  said  he. 

And  he  put  two  ends  together,  and  by  a  deft  wrist 
movement  twisted  them  into  a  secure  straw  rope. 

"I  can  do  that.     How  easy  it  looks?     Now  see!" 

She  tried  and  failed,  with  a  pleasant  ripple  of  laugh- 
ter. Macgillvray  laughed  too,  and  came  nearer,  his 
shadow  falling  over  her  and  his  bronzed  hands  out- 
stretched. 

"You  just  did  it  wrong,  indeed,  for  you  turned  your 
wrists  the  wrong  way." 

The  words  were  small,  the  voice  rich  and  deep ;  it 
seemed  close  to  her,  and  as  she  looked  down  disconso- 
lately on  the  unattached  wisps  of  straw,  he  laid  his 
hand  upon  them  to  take  them  from  her.  And  at  that 
moment  she  raised  her  head  with  a  smile  at  her  failure. 
Close  to  her  was  Macgillvray 's  strong  bronzed  face 
under  his  straw  hat ;  close  to  him  was  the  lovely  face  of 
Jessamine,  pink,  dimpled,  the  eyes  swimming  with 
pathos  and  wistfulness.  He  looked  into  them  intently 
for  three  brief  seconds,  and  then  a  kind  of  blindness 


154  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

smote  into  his  own,  and  he  stooped  forward  and  kissed 
her  on  the  mouth. 

For  Jessamine  the  earth  seemed  to  leap  as  the  fire 
of  his  kiss  burned  to  her  heart;  she  knelt  motionless, 
staring  at  the  corn  in  her  hands;  and  then  a  sudden 
inconsequent  fury  seemed  to  erase  the  whole  problem 
of  her  passion  and  to  leave  her  free  and  untouched. 
She  looked  up,  dropping  the  corn,  and  turning  a  face 
of  anger  upon  him ;  had  there  been  in  his  the  least 
trace  of  swagger  or  triumph  the  anger  would  have 
endured.  But  she  found  that  he  had  withdrawn  a 
step,  and  was  standing  a  little  apart,  his  arms  hanging 
by  his  side,  his  face  dark  and  soft  with  a  fathomless 
remorse,  and  before  it  the  anger  and  remnant  of  her 
resistance  vanished.  She  caught  her  hands  to  her 
burning  face  and  covered  it,  and  knelt  trembing  above 
the  unfinished  sheaf.  Had  anyone  seen  that  kiss? 
The  world  was  full  of  it. 

"You  will  not  be  needing,"  said  Colin  in  a  low,  des- 
perate tone,  "to  be  looking  at  me  like  that.  You  will 
not  be  needing  to  cover  your  bonnie,  bonnie  face.  I 
know  what  I  have  done.  I  am  one  just  not  fit  to  live. 
And  I  will  not  be  living  any  longer  if  it  harms  you.  I 
cannot  wipe  my  kiss  off  your  lips.  But  I  can  go  and 
drown  myself,  so  that  you  need  not  be  thinking  at  it 
again,  or  flushing  red  like  a  rose  because  of  my  being 
alive  on  the  same  earth.  I  can  go  now.  I  am  not 
caring  any  more  to  be  alive  if  I  have  hurt  you." 

The  words  in  their  quiet  desperation  reached  Jessa- 
mine's ear,  and  sank  every  one  of  them  to  her  heart, 
and  created  there  every  one  of  them  an  added  circle  of 
joy.  When  he  ceased  to  speak  she  made  no  answer, 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  155 

but  still  seemed  listening;  she  felt  like  one  lulled  safely 
on  a  small  islet  about  which  tumbles  an  infinite  ocean 
of  disaster.  Would  he  speak  again?  A  woman  fears 
to  spoil  the  music  of  the  first  love  words  by  any  utter- 
ance of  her  own.  But  he  said  no  more ;  she  fancied 
she  heard  his  feet  move  from  her  through  the  stubble. 
And  then  a  misgiving  lest  she  should  miss  her  mo- 
ment— the  golden  moment  of  life — and  drive  him  with 
that  look  upon  his  face  to  some  despairing  deed,  sent 
thrills  of  terror  through  her.  Keeping  one  hand  over 
her  eyes,  she  stretched  the  other  out  toward  him  with 
a  passionate  gesture,  and  cried : 

"O  Colin,  Colin!     I  am  not  angry." 

He  caught  her  hand  in  his  own  as  she  rose  and  stood 
before  him. 

"Not  angry?"  He  waited,  looking  anxiously  at  the 
lovely  living  cheek  and  quivering  mouth.  The  hand 
still  covered  her  eyes.  "Do  you  know  what  you  will 
be  saying?  Jessie,  bonnie  bird!  'Not  angry'  means 
you  love  me,"  said  he,  trembling  exceedingly,  but 
pressing  the  question  home  with  grave  insistence. 

"Let  me  go!"  she  answered,  waking  up  to  the  thun- 
dering of  those  waves  of  disaster  in  her  ear. 

"No,"  returned  he  firmly;  "since  we  are  come  so  far 
we  must  go  further.  If  you  bid  me  I  will  drown  my- 
self for  what  I've  done.  I'd  rather  that  than  shame 
you,  Jessie.  But  a  man  does  not  throw  his  life  away 
for  nothing.  I  will  drown  myself  if  I  hurt  you  with 
my  kiss.  But  if  I  did  not  hurt  you,  tell  me,  and  I  will 
live.  I  must  know  before  I  let  you  go." 

"No,  no;  you  did  not  hurt  me,  Colin,"  said  Jessa- 
mine, shivering. 


156  A   SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN. 

"Why,  then,  should  you  tremble?  Ah,  my  wee 
bonnie  do'e!  why  would  you  be  looking  at  me  as  one 
not  fit  to  live?" 

His  voice  thrilled,  and  shook  with  hope;  and  in  her 
heart  was  so  strange  a  commingling  of  joy  and  com- 
plete despair  that  it  seemed  to  her  beyond  the  slight- 
ness  of  her  frame  to  bear  it.  She  found  no  words. 

"Let  me  see  your  bonnie  eyes." 

He  laid  his  fingers  timidly  upon  the  wrist  of  the 
hand  with  which  she  still  veiled  her  emotion. 

"Jessie,  Jessie!  when  a  man  trembles  on  the  edge  of 
a  great  happiness  and  on  the  edge  of  a  great  trouble, 
much  may  be  forgiven  him."  He  used  his  strength 
with  reverential  gentleness;  her  hand  dropped  into  his, 
and  her  eyes  opened  upon  him.  "My  God  !"  said  he, 
with  a  great  tumult  in  his  heart,  as  he  read  what  was 
written  there. 

"Now  let  me  go,"  she  murmured,  drawing  away  from 
the  passionate  force  of  his  embrace;  "be  content,  and 
let  me  go.  Colin,  Colin  !" 

And  as  his  arms  relinquished  her,  she  fled  like  a 
frightened  shadow -through  the  gathering  dusk  of  the 
field. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

IT  is  no  delusion  which  makes  true  lovers  feel  that 
their  own  passion  fills  the  world.  For  the  world  itself 
is  interested. 

As  a  rule,  the  affair  of  love,  the  grave  meaning  of 
human  union,  is  lost  sight  of  in  the  fuss  and  prettiness 
of  an  engagement ;  sentiment  and  elegance  serve  for 
passion,  and  morality  is  exchanged  for  conventionality. 
If  there  be  a  white  dress,  a  wreath  of  orange  blossom, 
a  train  of  bridesmaids,  a  church  or  conventicle,  and  an 
officiating  priest,  the  union  is  moral — that  is  to  say, 
society  leaves  a  card  upon  the  couple.  If  these  things 
are  missing,  the  union  is  considered  immoral;  society 
does  not  visit. 

An  abnormal  situation,  however,  throws  us  upon  our 
own  resources.  We  cease  simply  to  breathe  in  and 
out  the  exhausted  atmosphere  of  society,  and,  retiring 
to  some  isolated  peak  of  genuine  thinking,  brace  our- 
selves up  to  a  nobler  tenor. 

Once  more  the  square  little  chamber  was  the  scene. 

Jessamine  paced  up  and  down  like  a  caged  creature 
animated  by  a  hope  of  liberty.  Sometimes  she  leaned 
against  the  wall,  her  hands  behind  her,  and  her  head 
thrown  back.  Colin's  kiss  still  glowed  on  her  lips,  and 
the  pressure  of  his  arms  about  her  body,  while  the  cer- 
tainty of  his  love  snatched  her,  as  in  a  chariot  of  fire, 
out  of  the  ordinary  world  which  she  had  trodden  so 
long  with  disdain. 

»S7 


158  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"I  am  happy,"  said  she;  "I  am  in  heaven!  I  am 
alive  for  the  first  time." 

The  little  chamber  could  not  hold  her.  She  folded 
a  woolen  "cloud"  about  her  head  and  throat,  and  went 
out.  At  the  back  of  the  house  a  path  led  a  short  way 
up  the  hill ;  it  was  moonlit  now,  though  the  light  was 
crossed  by  the  frequent  overshadowing  of  birch  trees. 
Up  this  path  she  walked,  continuing  the  ascent  until 
she  saw  a  birch  tree  growing  higher  up  and  apart  from 
the  rest,  larger  than  them,  and  with  a  trunk  so  divided 
as  to  form  a  natural  seat.  Leaning  against  this,  she 
looked  across  the  dusky  heads  of  companion  trees — 
the  foliage  sown  as  by  a  silver  coinage — to  the  land  of 
shadows  beyond.  There  was  nothing  to  hear;  the 
breeze  of  the  day,  so  valuable  to  the  reapers,  had  fallen, 
and  the  quietude  was  absolute. 

"I  am  happy,"  said  she,  "because  the  thing  has  hap- 
pened to  me  which  happens  to  few  women.  I  have 
found  with  my  heart  the  very  man  my  heart  would 
choose  out  of  all  the  world,  and  he  loves  me." 

She  nestled  down  in  the  forked  trunk  of  the  tree, 
leaning  her  head  with  the  knitted  shawl  about  it 
against  a  branch.  Twinkling  leaves  hung  motionless 
about  her,  but  her  feet  and  gray  skirt  were  scarcely  to 
be  discriminated  from  the  ground  on  which  they 
rested. 

"It  is  because  he  is  so  real  that  I  love  hi.m,"  said 
she — "because  it  is  all  so  removed  from  the  lies  I  lived 
in  down  there  in  London." 

She  crooked  her  arm  round  a  branch  of  the  tree,  and 
settled  herself  more  securely. 

"Also,"  she  added   with  a  gasp,  "because  it  is  so 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  159 

shocking  and  ill-regulated — such  a  frightful  smash  up 
of  everything  I  know  about.  Oh,  oh,  oh !  how  happy 
I  am!" 

She  closed  her  eyes  dreamily,  the  moonlight  falling 
placidly  upon  her  face. 

"Colin  the  peasant  kissed  me,"  she  said. 

Her  heart  beat  and  leaped  with  mingled  fright  and 
ecstasy.  She  was  like  an  antique  Sicilian  girl,  whose 
lover  seeks  her  in  the  woods,  and  says  nothing  about 
ceremonies  nor  makes  any  bargain.  Jessamine's  idea 
of  a  bargain  was  forever  connected  with  her  London 
experiences  and  the  detested  Heriot.  Her  revolt  into 
sheer  nature  and  primeval  emotion  following  upon  that 
was  a  wild  and  fearful  joy.  For  the  moment,  at  least, 
she  had  got  hold  of  the  undivided  man,  the  simple  be- 
loved,  unattached  to  a  banking  account,  to  an  elegant 
position,  and  fine  upholstery.  She  was  nearer  to  nature 
than  most  women.  And  this  for  the  own  niece  of  her 
aunt  Arabella  was  a  sufficiently  wonderful  matter. 

"Supposing  other  girls — other  professional  beauties — 
were  like  me,"  she  said ;  "  I  wonder  what  would 
happen?" 

Her  face,  with  the  eyes  now  wide  open,  gleamed 
with  a  little  terrified  fun,  across  which  mournful 
shadows  kept  flitting. 

"I  wish,"  she  said,  "that  the  thrusting  out  of  my 
finger" — here  a  small  finger  like  a  little  white  line 
appeared  from  among  the  shadows — "could  topple 
down  the  whole  hateful  fabric  of  London  society. 
Yes;  I  do  wish  it.  Suppose  that,  hidden  away  in  this 
Scotch  birch  tree,  I  had  such  a  power  with  my 
enchanted  finger.  Would  I  not  use  it?" 


160  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

To  desire  this  social  upheaval  was  equivalent  with 
Jessamine  to  a  wish  for  the  destruction  of  every  moral 
law  for  the  furtherance  of  her  own  chance  inclination. 
A  want  of  discrimination  gave  her  wild  fancies  the 
criminal  touch,  which  properly  was  no  part  of  them, 
her  mood  becoming  that  of  reckless  self-abandonment, 
without  regard  to  the  innocence  of  her  projects,  or 
even  their  beneficial  tendency.  It  was  the  conse- 
quence of  her  want  of  brain  that  she  fell  into  so 
immoral  a  spirit,  and  turned  to  evil  a  situation  which 
by  no  means  necessarily  involved  it,  though  it  certainly 
demanded  a  powerful  choice. 

The  thing  which  had  happened  to  her  argued  obvi- 
ously an  unbalancedness  within,  and  receiving  this,  all 
the  footsteps  to  joy  looked  to  her  as  a  flight  down- 
ward. Whereupon  her  mirth  faded  to  mournfulness, 
and  she  tenderly  considered  that  to  reach  her  Colin, 
who  was  so  good,  she,  his  "bonnie  do'e,"  could  only 
be  bad — a  frightful  situation  that  turned  her  young 
heart  cold.  For  the  instincts  of  deep  affection  detected 
in  this  the  irreparable  spiritual  separation  from  the 
thing  beloved. 

She  drew  her  hand  back  within  the  shawl,  the  scorn- 
ful daring  finger  seeming  in  fancy  to  turn  against  her- 
self, and  sat  with  her  head  downcast,  musing. 

To  be  sure,  she  was  born  under  a  curse,  for  wherever 
she  turned  she  was  beaten  back.  When  it  touched  her 
marriage  with  Lord  Heriot — the  splendid  wedding  sup- 
ported by  every  possible  prestige— Dr.  Cornerstone, 
who  was  in  a  sense  her  exterior  conscience,  had  looked, 
she  recalled,  upon  the  proposal  with  a  sort  of  Satanic 
wrath  that  became  him,  and  heartened  her  as  to  the 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  161 

next  step — the  kiss  in  the  cornfield  exchanged  with 
the  stalwart  peasant.  Her  ears  tingled  and  her  cheeks 
smarted  already  with  the  hootings  of  an  indignant 
world's  outraged  propriety.  How  could  she  keep  her 
head  in  face  of  the  conviction  of  so  multitudinous  a 
condemnation?  It  is  a  hard  thing  to  be  a  woman  and 
heroic.  Jessamine's  resource  was  recklessness  and  a 
meteoric  shooting  forth  of  unguided  will. 

"Oh,  mad,  bad,  miserably  happy  Jessamine !" 

There  was  no  smile  on  her  face  as  she  raised  it  and 
gazed  up  into  the  vastness  of  the  sky,  which  night  and 
the  moon  were  filling  with  changing  cloud  pictures. 
But  night  is  night ;  and  some  of  Nature's  great  influence 
dropped  on  the  weak,  forlorn  heart  beating  beneath 
it.  A  thought  came  east  and  a  thought  came  west, 
and  softly  fell  upon  the  confusion  of  her  mind,  and  for 
a  moment  it  seemed  as  though  that  delicate,  little-used 
thinking  apparatus  of  hers  would  interpret  it,  and 
would  move  under  the  impulse  of  a  genuine  idea. 

"Forsake  the  artificial  and  accept  the  true,  the  rose 
with  the  thorn." 

She  put  out,  as  it  were,  feelers,  half  blindly  but 
wholly  earnestly,  toward  a  true  solution.  Her  pre- 
rogative as  a  human  being  kept  breaking  in  momentary 
light  in  her  face,  startling  her  mind  with  apprehensions 
too  great  for  its  grasping,  too  great  for  a  definite 
response,  but  leaving  her  with  an  aching,  beating,  aspir- 
ing heart  that  stretched  and  yearned  she  knew  not  for 
what. 

It  is  a  terrific  experience,  and  Jessamine  at  best  was 
a  slight  creature. 

Her    position  on    the   tree    became   presently   too 


1 62  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

restrained  for  her  emotion;  sliding  out  of  her  seat,  she 
stood  erect,  her  hand  pressing  the  knitted  shawl  upon 
her  breast  with  both  hands. 

The  prevision  upon  her  was  of  the  universal  which 
touches  us  in  every  personal  experience,  the  call  to  be 
through  any  single  event  something  which  belongs  to 
us  alone,  and  which  yet  is  for  all.  To  miss  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  unique  moment!  That  is  desolation. 

The  girl's  heart  grew  under  her  passion  to  a  half  sort 
of  cosmic  apprehension,  the  wide  setting  which  rims 
our  remotest  act  being  suddenly  surmised  t>y  her,  but 
never  for  one  moment  so  clearly  comprehended  as  to 
leave  her  free  to  think.  She  drew  the  long  quivering 
breath  as  of  a  vaguely  rising  resolve,  and  stretched  her 
hands  out  searchingly  toward  the  night,  looking  up  as 
she  did  so  with  solerrh:  asking  eyes. 

"What  must  I  do?"  she  said.     "What  must  I  do?" 

Then  she  paced  the  small  space  of  ground  beneath 
the  tree  with  agitation,  forcing  her  thoughts  to  mar- 
shal themselves  in  regiments  that  ran  with  too  re- 
stricted an  aim.  Better  to  have  gone  on  lifting  a 
passive  heart  to  the  skies. 

"Colin  knows  nothing,"  said  she.  "Need  he  ever 
know?  He  knows  I  am  Beautiful,  and  he  vaguely 
knows  I  am  something  beyond  the  McKenzie's  farm 
help  that  I  choose  to  appear  to  be.  He  knows  it  just 
in  the  way  the  McKenzies  know  it.  But  he  never 
dreams  that  I  am  rich,  that  I  am  socially  altogether 
out  of  his  ken.  He  does  not  picture,  has  not  the 
faintest  flash  of  an  idea  of,  my  real  position  and  sur- 
roundings. How  should  he  have?  He  is  just  simply 
a  man  who  sees  in  me  a  woman ;  he,  and  he  alone,  has 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   IVOMAX.  163 

found  me — has  found  Jessamine;  I  am  in  a  sort  his 
creation.  I  am  just  what  I  should  be  if  he  were  Adam 
and  I  Eve.  All  the  rest  seems  to  fall  away  when  I  am 
near  him  and  see  his  clear-looking,  truthful  eyes,  and 
feel  him  loving  me." 

Why  was  he  not  Adam  and  she  Eve?  What  shuts 
the  gate  of  Paradise  against  them?  She  stood  there 
knocking  at  the  doors  with  a  timid  but  ever  more  and 
more  importunate  hand,  until  the  whole  night  filled 
with  her  appeal,  and  she  sank  upon  the  earth  kneeling, 
with  extended  arms  and  uplifted  face. 

It  was  to  all  the  old-world  mythologies  she  cried  this 
time,  not  to  the  rigid  specter  whom  Aunt  Arabella 
had  set  up  as  god.  She  cried  to  everything  primeval 
to  which  men  from  time  immemorial  have  carried  their 
wants,  and,  like  any  pagan  girl,  asked  her  impossible 
heart's  desire  from  earth  and  skies. 

"Oh,  good  God,  forgive  my  thoughts,  "  she  cried, 
"and  fulfill  them!" 

She  drew  her  hands  back,  pressing  them  against  her 
breast  and  shivering,  but  still  cried  on  to  that  whole 
mythology  of  Nature. 

Then  she  rose,  and  restlessly  paced  in  the  shadow  of 
the  tree,  staring  round  with  a  fearful  face — a  face  ever 
too  conscious  of  a  prying  and  derisive  world.  The 
pictured  mockery  drove  her  to  severe  lengths  of  think- 
ing, to  a  self-flagellating  imagining.  Mentally  she 
leaped  her  abyss  and  landed  on  the  other  and  grim 
side,  and  there  summoned  before  her  the  shallow  world 
of  critics  whom  she  knew.  Her  thought,  shuddering 
beneath  the  weight  of  its  own  temerity,  pictured  the 
thing  that  might  be.  A  return  after  an  interval — that 


164  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

interval  too  dimly  sketched  to  be  anything  but  a  bliss- 
ful terror,  in  which  heaven  and  hell  were  strangely 
commingled,  and  from  which  her  thought  shrank  hur- 
riedly away. 

But  afterward  the  return !  London  and  the  old 
circle  of  flattering  friends,  with  ominously  silent  faces 
and  a  pinlike  curiosity  in  their  eyes. 

"To  these,"  said  Jessamine,  "I  speak  frankly.  I 
force  myself  to  do  it.  I  carry  in  my  arms  my  little 
baby,  and  I  say,  'This  is  the  child  of  the  man  I  love, 
and  for  whom  forever,  though  I  see  him  no  more,  I 
shall  live  as  a  true  wife.  He  was  the  best  and  truest 
man  I  ever  met,  and  the  finest  to  look  upon ;  and  he 
took  my  heart  by  storm.  He  was  a  peasant,  and  lived 
in  a  sort  of  hovel,  and  worked  in  the  fields  with  his 
own  hands;  he  looked  splendid  when  he  was  reaping 
the  corn.  He  had  been  educated,  but  it  was  a  small 
matter;  he  did  not  read  much,  he  said  quiet,  wise 
things  instead.  I'm  afraid  he  knew  no  poetry,  but  his 
eyes  were  poems  in  themselves.  He  had  no  adven- 
tures, neither  had  he  any  vices.  He  was  wholesome, 
from  his  sunburned  skin  to  the  inmost  core  of  his 
heart.  There  was  not  a  spot  in  his  whole  nature  from 
which  you  had  to  turn  away  your  eyes.  Such  a  power 
of  goodness  went  out  from  him  that  he  had  but  to  look 
at  me  and  I  grew  better.  I  could  not  marry  him,  be- 
cause I  was  not  fit  for  the  duties  of  his  wife;  but,  yes, 
I  loved  him  so  that  I  united  myself  to  him  with  trem- 
bling joy.  And  this  is  my  baby.'  Supposing  I  said 
this." 

Pausing  in  her  walk,  she  rested  again  against  the 
birch  tree,  while  her  eyes  and  features  lent  themselves 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  165 

to  the  expression  of  some  deep  natural  yearning;  it 
grew  in  her  face  as  though  she  saw  something  far  off, 
as  a  star  is  far  away,  with  which  she  had  some  intimate 
connection.  It  seemed  that  she  became  enwrapt  even 
to  partial  unconsciousness,  for  her  arms  involuntarily 
extended  themselves  as  though  to  receive  a  gift. 

The  yearning  in  her  eyes  increased,  arid  she  drew 
her  arms  together — empty  as  they  were — and  curved 
them  toward  her  breast.  The  fashioning  of  her  face 
under  the  spell  of  the  idea  was  wonderful.  Presently, 
as  she  gazed  down,  enwrapt,  upon  her  empty  arms,  a 
rain  of  tender  tears  fell  from  her  eyes. 

Then  a  little  wind  came  in  the  tree,  and  the  flutter- 
ing of  the  leaves  waked  her.  She  glanced  up  with  a 
distraught  look,  upon  which  smote  sudden  anguish. 

"I  dare  not !     I  dare  not!" 

And  she  fell  to  the  ground  shivering  and  sobbing, 
and  drew  the  shawl  over  her  head  and  smothered  her 
face  on  her  gathered-up  knees.  The  moonlight  drew 
away  behind  the  hill  and  left  the  place  in  shadow. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  morning  brought  apathy  and  a  passive  inclina- 
tion to  let  things  drift.  The  performance  of  house- 
hold duties  in  itself  helped  to  carry  the  moments 
onward  one  by  one  in  soothing  activity  without  too 
much  leisure  for  thought. 

"Where  is  Mr.  McKenzie?  I  have  not  seen  him  to- 
day," said  Jessamine  in  the  course  of  her  labors,  turn- 
ing to  Mrs.  McKenzie. 

During  the  morning  her  eyes  had  more  than  once 
wandered  to  the  open  door  and  the  gate  in  the  yard  in 
vague  expectation. 

"Oh,  he  is  just  away  again.  Colin  Macgillvray  was 
calling  this  morning,  and  John  was  to  go  with  him  to 
the  sports  at  Righchar." 

Jessamine's  cheek  burned  as  she  sedulously  rubbed 
up  a  chair. 

"Mr.  Macgillvray  was  here,  then?" 

"Oh,  yes;  he  would  be  here  early,  lingering  about 
just  like  anyone  daft  indeed." 

Jessamine  felt  no  offense  ;  she  smiled  at  the  criticism. 

"  'Colin,'  I  was  saying,"  continued  Mrs.  McKenzie, 
"  'ye  will  be  resting  ye  at  the  wrong  end  of  the  day 
whatever.'  And  Colin  he  was  just  laughing." 

"What  are  the  sports?"  asked  Jessamine,  knuckling 
up  her  white  hand  and  leaning  her  pink  cheek  upon 
it.  "Has  Col — I  mean  Mr.  McKenzie — gone  away  to 
them?" 

166 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAX.  167 

"Oh,  yes!  John  was  to  go  with  Colin.  It  will  be  a 
change  for  them." 

"What  will  they  do?" 

"Oh,  it  will  be  a  very  grand  affair  indeed!  They 
will  play  the  pipes,  and  they  will  dance  the  Highland 
reel,  and  they  will  run  and  jump  and  throw  the  caber 
and  the  hammer.  Just  all  sorts." 

"Does — Mr.  McKenzie  join  in  them?" 

"Oh,  no;  he  will  not  be  joining." 

"What  will  he  do,  then?" 

"Oh,  he  will  just  stand  round  and  watch." 

"Does  Colin  Macgillvray  just  stand  round  and  watch 
too?" 

"Colin  Macgillvray  will  be  trying  for  a  prize.  He 
was  ever  the  best  at  throwing  the  hammer.  Colin  is  a 
strong  man  whatever." 

Jessamine  dropped  the  duster  and  came  up  to  Mrs. 
McKenzie,  blushing  like  a  rose  and  wearing  a  coaxing 
face. 

"Mrs.  McKenzie,  I  want  to  see  the  games.  Am  I 
too  late?  Can  I  get  there?  Will  you  let  me  go?" 

"I  should  think  I  will  let  you  go,  indeed!  No,  you 
will  not  be  too  late.  But  it  is  not  fit  for  a  wee  bonnie 
lassie  to  go  her  lane." 

"It  will  be  fit  for  me,  Mrs.  McKenzie,  because  I  am 
not  a  Highland  lassie,  and  because  I  am  very  canny 
and  know  how  to  take  care  of  myself." 

"Aweel,  that  will  be  as  it  may  be,"  said  Mrs. 
McKenzie  with  a  sigh.  "Ye  can  be  seeking  out  John 
amongst  the  crowd,  and  ye  can  be  standing  near  him. 
and  he  will  just  be  looking  after  ye." 

"Can  I  go  now?" 


1 68  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"Just  as  soon  as  ye  like  indeed." 

Righchar  was  a  town  fifteen  miles  distant ;  the  sta- 
tion was  five  miles  from  Drynock;  Jessamine  would 
have  to  walk  so  far,  and  could  then  take  the  train  for 
the  rest  of  the  journey. 

Her  dressing  for  the  occasion  was  studiedly  different 
from  the  costume  of  gray  with  which  the  villagers  were 
already  familiar.  She  hoped  to  escape  detection  in  the 
crowd,  and  to  watch  Macgillvray  in  his  action  among 
his  own  people  when  he  was  unaware  of  her  presence. 
The  dress  she  chose  was  a  simple  one  of  black  with  a 
tight-fitting  jacket ;  the  costume  had  been  made  for  an 
unfulfilled  purpose  of  hospital  visiting  in  the  old  days, 
and  it  was  finished  by  a  close  little  bonnet  and  a  veil 
over  the  face. 

She  did  not  reach  Righchar  until  the  day  was  well 
advanced  and  the  games — in  spite  of  Highland  ease 
and  dilatoriness — more  than  half  over.  The  scene  was 
in  a  field,  and  the  arena,  which  was  extensive,  was 
simply  marked  out  by  placing  the  spectators  in  a  circle. 
In  the  center  of  the  space  thus  formed  a  number  of 
handsome  Highlanders — some  in  national  costume  and 
some  not — were  expected  to  display  their  prowess  in 
feats  of  strength,  or  grace,  or  agility,  or  in  musical  skill. 
At  the  moment  of  her  arrival  a  reel  in  costume  was 
going  on ;  but  a  glance  sufficed  to  assure  her  that  Colin 
was  not  one  of  the  performers;  indeed,  neither  he  nor 
John  was  to  be  seen.  A  few  carriages  drawn  up  on 
the  edge  of  the  ring  had  enabled  her  to  approach  unob- 
served ;  these  were  surrounded  by  groups  of  respecta- 
bly dressed  people,  and,  placing  herself  near,  she 
trusted  to  her  proximity  to  them  and  to  the  newness 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  169 

of  her  dress  to  conceal  her  from  notice.  The  specta- 
tors were,  with  the  exception  of  the  few  gathered  near 
the  carriages,  composed  almost  entirely  of  peasants,  and 
she  soon  detected  the  feeling  of  association  and  famili- 
arity which  leads  a  community  of  equals  to  call  the 
members  by  their  Christian  names  and  to  recognize 
each  one  in  his  individual  character  and  capacity. 

In  due  season  the  reel — the  weird  grace  of  which 
delighted  her — came  to  an  end.  The  bagpipes,  how- 
ever, by  no  means  concluded  their  operations;  they 
retired  behind  a  wooden  shanty,  from  which  the  prizes 
were  to  be  handed,  and  then  each  piper,  with  a  strange 
and  quite  magnanimous  toleration  of  the  rights  of 
others  in  the  matter  of  music,  continued  to  play  each 
one  his  own  instrument  in  cheerful  and  uncomplaining 
independence,  marching  about  the  while  in  plaids  and 
kilts  and  unabated  dignity.  But  the  dancers  having 
made  their  bow  and  disappeared  in  a  picturesque  and 
medley  group,  a  new  group  of  men  came  now  into  the 
center.  These  were  hatless  and  coatless,  and  clad  in 
jerseys  and  short  cotton  drawers.  Among  them  Jessa- 
mine's heart  leaped  up  to  recognize  Colin.  The  feat 
to  be  performed  was  tossing  the  caber ;  and  two  men 
appeared  bearing  what  looked  like  a  small  tree,  de- 
nuded of  its  branches,  and  about  eight  feet  long.  Two 
or  three  Highlanders  each,  in  turn,  raised  it,  only  to 
let  it  fall  again ;  whereupon  a  great  laugh  rippled 
round  the  circle  of  spectators,  and  a  man  carrying 
a  saw  and  dressed  in  ordinary  working  clothes  came  for- 
ward. Amid  the  holiday-makers  he  had  a  certain  irrele- 
vant and  prosaic  air,  and  he  applied  his  tool  stolidly 
to  the  caber,  and  made  as  though  he  would  shorten  it. 


170  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN; 

The  crowd  tittered.  But  then  Colin  walked  forward 
with  his  grave,  nonchalant  bearing,  and  pushed  the 
workman  aside.  The  people  clapped  in  anticipation  ; 
as  for  Jessamine,  when  she  saw  him  stand  there  in  the 
pride  and  ease  of  his  strength,  the  heart  within  her 
stirred  with  a  delicious  surprise. 

Macgillvray  took  the  caber,  planted  his  feet  firmly, 
and  poising  it,  small  end  downward,  on  his  right  hand, 
stooped  low,  and  then,  with  a  mighty  movement  of  his 
arms  and  body,  projected  it  forward  in  the  air.  The 
caber  went  up  a  great  height,  and  then  turned  and  fell 
to  the  ground  at  a  considerable  distance  onward,  big 
end  foremost.  The  spectators  clapped  and  shouted, 
and  Jessamine  drew  her  breath  with  a  quiver.  It  was 
the  sense  of  achievement  this  time  that  dazzled  her. 

"  Yes  !  He  did  that !  "  said  she.  "  He  sent  that 
great  thing,  that  I  could  not  lift,  high  and  far  in  the 
air,  and  he  looked  beautiful  as  he  did  it — as  though  it 
were  a  trifle.  He  can  do  things  that  I  cannot  imagine." 

The  unconscious  Colin  retired  modestly  after  his 
achievement,  amid  the  plaudits  of  the  crowd,  and  the 
eyes  of  Jessamine  followed  every  one  of  his  move- 
ments. 

The  exploit  next  on  the  programme  was  leaping 
over  the  bar.  It  took  the  good  Highlanders  a  consider- 
able time  to  erect  first  the  two  poles,  and  then  to 
balance  the  bar  across  them.  However,  they  were  up 
at  last — after  falling  down  three  separate  times — and 
the  game  began. 

Colin  took  no  part  in  the  leaping,  but  upon  his 
return  to  the  ground  there  was  a  marked  difference  in 
his  demeanor.  Instead  of  his  former  collected  air, 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  171 

a  certain  restlessness  was  to  be  detected.  He  held  his 
head  high,  and  walked  about  with  his  figure  con- 
sciously drawn  up  to  its  full  height.  His  eyes,  too, 
shining  lustrously,  darted  hither  and  thither  over  the 
crowd,  and  he  laughed  and  talked  more  than  his  wont. 
After  the  leaping  came  "  putting  the  weight  "  ;  one  or 
two  men  walked  into  the  square,  and  acquitted  them- 
selves moderately  well.  And  then  it  was  Colin's  turn 
once  more. 

"  A  Macgillvray  against  a'  the  Macphersons  ! "  was 
the  cry. 

Macgillvray  shook  his  hair  back  and  presented  him- 
self, his  face  smiling,  and  in  his  eye  a  curious,  excited 
light.  He  took  the  stone  and  placed  himself  in  the 
square.  The  stone  weighed  about  twenty-two  pounds  ; 
having  this  in  his  hand,  and  standing  on  the  back 
line  of  the  square,  he  raised  it  to  the  level  of  his 
shoulder,  keeping  his  elbow  directly  under  it  and 
close  to  his  side.  His  body  was  balanced  on  the 
right  leg,  the  right  shoulder  being  drawn  back;  the 
left  leg  was  raised  up  from  the  ground  and  with 
the  left  arm  thrown  forward  to  help  the  poise. 
In  this  attitude  he  crouched  somewhat,  as  though 
pressed  down  by  the  weight  of  the  stone,  and  then 
raised  it  up  slowly  two  or  three  times  to  the  full 
stretch  of  his  arm ;  then  he  took  a  quick  movement 
forward,  and,  both  feet  now  on  the  ground,  but  the 
weight  of  the  body  still  on  the  right  leg,  and  the  right 
shoulder  still  held  back,  with  a  sharp  spring  and  rapid 
half  turn  of  the  body — a  movement  of  exceeding  grace 
and  strength — he  propelled  the  stone,  holding  himself 
strongly  back  as  his  right  shoulder  swung  forward  and 
as  his  right  foot  touched  the  "  scratch  "  line. 


i?2  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN'. 

Jessamine  saw  him,  after  the  fine  and  rapid  changes 
of  his  attitude,  with  white,  set  face  and  strongly  thrown 
out  arms,  and  well-controlled  body  held  back  from 
"  following  "  his  shot.  The  stone,  as  though  it  had 
been  veritably  projected  from  some  powerful  spring, 
whizzed  through  the  air,  and  made  its  first  pitch  at 
a  distance  of  about  thirty-five  feet. 

Jessamine  did  not  know  that  the  "  put "  was  unusual, 
and  would  be  announced  in  every  sporting  paper  in 
England,  nor  was  she  aware  how  great  a  part  the 
influence  of  her  own  personality  had  in  it.  But  a  roar 
of  applause,  accompanied  by  hand  clapping,  burst  from 
the  crowd,  and  her  heart  beat  high  with  pride  and  joy. 

"  It's  no  canny !  the  lad's  fey ! "  cried  out  an  old 
fellow  who  knew  Macgillvray,  and  was  accustomed  to 
his  quiet  and  cautious  ways. 

And  Colin,  the  excitement  playing  over  his  face, 
stepped  back  a  pace  or  two,  and  stared  round  as 
though  dazed  by  his  own  achievement.  For,  indeed, 
in  that  moment  he  touched,  as  it  were,  the  high-water 
mark  of  his  life,  throwing  out,  in  the  way  most  possi- 
ble to  him,  a  sudden  expression  of  that  fuller  person- 
ality which  lies  latent  and  hidden  under  the  everyday 
character,  to  escape  but  in  those  rare  hours  when 
some  deep  stirring  of  the  nature  carries  it  forward  for 
an  instant  to  a  higher  plane  of  action. 

Then  he  ran  laughing  from  the  field.  A  group  of 
peasant  girls  near  Jessamine  were  shouting  with  de- 
light, clapping  and  cheering  with  might  and  main,  and 
what  they  were  saying  sank  suddenly  upon  her  ear. 

"  Ay,  Colin's  fey !  "  they  cried — "  Colin's  fey  !  See 
the  big  mon  running  through  the  field  like  a  bit  laddie  ! 
Ay,  it  will  no  be  canny  !  Colin's  fey  !  " 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  173 

Jessamine  felt  the  interest  and  exhilaration  die  sud- 
denly out  of  her  heart.  She  wanted  to  escape  and  to  get 
home.  Slinking  out  of  the  crowd,  she  hastened  to  the 
station,  determining  to  take  the  next  train  back.  But 
arrived  there,  she  found  there  was  an  hour  to  wait,  and 
that  time  had  to  be  passed  in  the  waiting  room,  which 
was  as  dreary  as  such  places  usually  are.  A  time-table 
of  the  Highland  railway  hung  on  one  wall ;  a  bundle 
of  texts  in  Gaelic  upon  the  other.  In  her  heart,  in- 
stead of  any  pleasant  thinking,  went  the  peasant  girls' 
cry  of  "Colin's  fey!"  In  and  out  of  the  room  came  an 
occasional  passenger.  Some  Highlander  in  costume 
returning,  slightly  intoxicated,  from  the  games;  some 
dull,  respectable  Scotchman  of  the  Lowlands  traveling 
on  business;  a  family  group  dragging  about  with  them 
a  half-witted  member;  a  laird  and  the  laird's  man. 
There  was  nothing  in  the  surroundings  to  mitigate  the 
sense  of  horrible  dullness,  or  the  prevision  of  evil, 
which  had  fallen  upon  her.  "Colin's  fey!"  still  rang  in 
her  ears,  and  with  it  the  inevitable  sequence. 

"People  are  'fey'  in  Scotland  before  a  great  calamity 
falls.  What  have  I  done  to  Colin?" 

It  was  getting  toward  dusk  when  she  arrived  at  the 
end  of  the  short  railway  journey,  and  stepped  from  the 
train,  and  then  a  walk  of  five  miles  lay  before  her. 
The  road  was  long  and  lonesome  and  silent.  To  begin 
with,  the  banks  on  either  side  were  high,  for  the  road 
ran  through  a  cleft  of  the  hills,  and  they  leaned  close 
upon  it  with  an  overshadowing  of  woods  which  made 
it  gloomy.  After  a  mile  or  so  the  small  cleft  widened 
to  a  broad  valley,  the  hills  retired  on  either  side,  and 
the  road  ran  as  an  exposed  white  line  over  a  moor- 


l?4  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

covered  and  partially  cultivated  country.  Just  now, 
when  a  break  in  the  woods  permitted  her  to  see  it,  a 
beautiful  light  lay  on  the  tops  of  the  hills;  but  this 
was  drawing  away,  and  the  sky  above  her  gathered 
already  in  depth.  She  met  few  people ;  one  or  two 
traps  overtook  her,  and  once  a  group  of  gypsy  tramps 
passed  by,  but  the  traffic  was  small.  She  had  walked 
on  for  about  a  mile,  and  dusk  was  really  closing,  when 
a  dogcart  shot  past  her  at  a  great  rate ;  looking  after 
it,  she  recognized  the  figures  of  John  McKenzie  and 
Colin  Macgillvray. 

"They  did  not  notice  me,"  said  she,  "and  I  am  glad." 

Another  quarter  of  a  mile  brought  her  to  a  fir 
wood — it  closed  the  road  in  upon  either  side — and 
leaning  against  the  fence  under  the  shadow  she  saw  the 
figure  of  a  man.  She  advanced  with  some  feeling  of 
trepidation,  but  as  she  approached  the  figure  came 
out,  and  stood  in  the  road  confronting  her. 

"Ah,  it  is  you !"  said  she,  with  a  quiver  of  mingled 
gladness  and  timidity. 

"I'm  thinking  it  will  be  me,"  said  the  low,  laughing 
voice  of  Colin. 

He  stood  in  front  and  stopped  her.  The  heart  in 
her  breast  was  agitated,  and  yet  felt  heavy  as  lead. 
Looking  up  with  an  effort,  she  realized  at  once,  from 
the  expression  of  his  face,  the  magnitude  of  the  change 
which  yesterday  had  made  in  their  relations.  A  word, 
the  touch  of  human  lips  on  each  other,  and  causes  are 
started  which  go  palpitating  on,  with  the  whole  of  life 
for  their  circuit — perhaps  with  the  infinite  space  of 
ages. 

"It's  me,"  repeated  Colin,  "and  I'm  just  hungering 
for  you." 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  1 75 

"Shall  I  take  your  arm,  and  shall  we  walk  down  the 
road  together?"  asked  she  timidly,  with  the  sense  of 
warding  off  some  greater  proposition  by  a  less. 

"That  will  not  be  enough,"  said  he. 

And  before  she  had  time  to  surmise  his  intention,  he 
gathered  her  to  his  breast,  lifting  her  in  the  fervor  of 
his  embrace  almost  off  her  feet.  She  gazed  up  at  the 
strong,  masterful,  tender  face  with  something  like  ter- 
ror. It  was  all  so  different  from  her  expectation. 

"I  am  frightened.  Set  me  down.  Let  us  walk  on," 
she  murmured  involuntarily. 

"Na;  there  will  be  no  one  coming.  I  could  carry 
ye  as  I  was  doing  before.  My  arms  ache  for  ye." 

"Oh,  no,  no!     I — it  frightens  me,  Colin!" 

"You  have  given  me  no  kiss." 

Her  heart  beat  terribly.  Present  to  her  thought  was 
the  strong  direct  strength  he  had  both  of  mind  and 
body — the  fierce  candor  and  simplicity  before  which 
she  was  helpless. 

"Colin,  I  have  something  to  say,"  said  she,  grasping 
for  safety  at  straws. 

"Aweel,  Jessie,  my  do'e." 

"I  saw  you  at  the  sports." 

"I'm  thinking  you  did.  I  saw  you  just  as  the  leap- 
ing began,  and  it  was  like  wine  in  my  heart.  Nothing 
would  have  been  too  high  for  me  to-day." 

"Colin,  no,  no!     Let  me  walk  by  your  side." 

"Ay,  a  maid  knows  well  how  to  plague  a  man." 

"You  must  not  talk  that  way.  They  were  saying 
to-day  when  you  threw  so  well  that  you  were  fey." 

"Fey  was  I?  I  was  to  believe  them,  I'm  thinking,  if 
they  were  saying  so  a  while  ago.  But  not  after  yester- 


!?6  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

day,  Jessie.  Fey  or  no,  I  have  all  I  am  wanting  now, 
and  more  than  my  best  dreams." 

"Was  yesterday  so  much?"  asked  she,  at  her  wits' 
end. 

"Oh,  yes — yes!  Why,  lassie,  would  it  be  small  to 
ye?" 

His  voice  held  a  disconcerted  tone,  and  that  was  as 
intolerable  to  Jessamine  as  his  unquestioning  claim 
upon  her. 

"No,  Colin,  no!     It  was  not  small." 

"Look,  my  wee  bonnie  Jessie,"  said  he  tenderly;  "I 
love  you  true.  There  will  not  be  a  corner  of  me  that 
does  not  love  you.  You  just  will  be  my  heart." 

"Yes,  Colin;  thank  you.  I  like  to  be  your  heart. 
You  passed  in  a  dogcart  with  Mr.  McKenzie  just  now. 
How  was  that?  Did  he  see  me  too?" 

"No;  he  was  not  seeing  you.  I  saw  you.  I  just 
thought  that  the  machine  would  do  verra  weel  without 
me,  and  I  said  to  John  I  would  just  be  walking  the 
rest  of  the  way." 

"It  was  quite  dusk,  and  I  was  close  to  the  hedge, 
yet  you  saw  me." 

"I'm  thinking  I  would  be  feeling  you  if  you  were 
near,  whether  I  saw  you  or  not.  But  I  saw  you,  Jessie, 
my  dearie.  There  are  eyes  in  my  heart." 

"Are  there,  Colin?" 

"Yes.     Now  for  my  kiss." 

She  raised  a  vainly  protesting  hand. 

"Jessie,"  said  he  solemnly,  and  he  pushed  the  hair 
back  from  her  brow  with  one  hand  while  he  held  her 
with  the  other  arm,  "you  must  love  me  true." 

"O  Colin,  I  do!  I  do!" 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  *77 

He  gazed  down  upon  her  face  with  a  long,  grave, 
yearning  look.  The  eyes  that  opened  wide  upon  his 
after  his  kiss  were  dim  with  something  like  terror.  He 
vaguely  perceived  it. 

"Ye  will  be  trembling,  lassie,"  said  he  tenderly. 

She  made  no  answer,  but  caught  at  the  lapel  of  his 
coat. 

"Aweel.  Trembling  will  just  be  the  way  of  a  maid. 
Come  closer,  and  ye  winna  tremble." 

"No,"  said  Jessamine,  in  a  choking  voice;  "let  us 
go  on." 

"And  ye're  greeting,  lassie!  For  why?  What  will 
ye  be  greeting  for?" 

"O  Colin!     Perhaps  that's  just  a  maid's  way  too." 

"Perhaps.  But  I'm  thinking  we  will  just  make  the 
most  of  to-day,  for  to-morrow  I  shatl  be  away." 

"Away!     Where?" 

"Oh,  it  will  only  be  a  sale  of  corn  to  which  I'm 
bound  to  go  with  John." 

"When  shall  you  be  back?" 

"Oh,  by  evening." 

She  walked  on  a  short  distance  in  silence.  They 
reached  the  open  road,  and  then  she  pulled  him  by  the 
sleeve. 

"Wait  a  minute;  there  is  something  to  say.  Listen 
to  it  now." 

"Ay,  Jessie!     What  will  it  be,  my  lo'e?" 

She  was  so  white  that  a  vague  apprehension  dawned 
on  his  heart. 

"Will  you  remember  what  I  am  going  to  say 
always?" 

"I  will  ever  remember  it.     What  will  it  be,  my  do'e?" 


178  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

She  placed  a  hand  on  either  shoulder  and  looked  him 
full  in  the  face. 

"It  is  that  I  love  you,  Colin,  and  ever  shall  and  ever 
must  till  death  comes.  Believe  it  always,  remember  it 
always — whatever  happens." 

He  took  her  hand  down  from  his  shoulder  and  held 
it  in  his  own. 

"It  will  be  a  great  matter  to  say  that,  Jessie,  my  wee 
wife.  But  it  will  be  true,  for  I  feel  it  in  my  own 
heart." 

After  that  they  walked  on  soberly  together,  speaking 
little.  But  her  hand  rested  on  his  arm,  and  his  feet 
trod  on  air. 

For  herself  the  unexpectedness  and  directness  of  his 
love-making  were  at  once  a  terror  and  charm.  He 
appeared  not  to  dream  of  circuitous  preliminaries;  gift 
bestowing,  court,  fictitious  distance,  and  compliment 
paying  seemed  not  to  enter  his  head ;  the  simplicity 
and  ingenuousness  of  his  passion,  now  his  reserve  was 
once  broken  down,  had  in  it  something  inflexible  and 
austere ;  his  love  tokens  were  the  pressure  of  his  arms, 
the  thrill  of  his  voice,  the  look  in  his  eyes;  and  these 
signs  in  himself  he  evidently  considered  sufficient,  and 
that  with  them  she  should  be  well  pleased,  just  as  in 
her  they  were  for  him  all-satisfying. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

OLD  Rorie  Macgillvray,  sitting  in  the  nook  by  the 
kitchen  hearth,  fancied  that  his  dim  eyes  caught  sight 
of  the  fluttering  of  a  woman's  garment  past  the  win- 
dow. The  rain  beat  slantwise  across  the  smoke-stained 
pane,  but  he  had  an  impression  that  with  the  rain  the 
wind  had  puffed  some  loose  gray  streamer  over  the 
blurred  outlines  and  mist-washed  shapes  of  the  moun- 
tains. It  made  him  stare  and  open  his  mouth  wider, 
and  turn  his  head  and  his  ear  in  an  endeavor  to  supple- 
"ment  one  failing  sense  by  the  failing  power  of  another. 
Then  the  idea  of  the  fluttering  shawl  touched  some 
association,  and  he  sat  thinking  of  it,  his  mouth  still 
open  and  his  eyes  perusing  the  smoldering  peats  on 
the  hearth,  upon  which  in  comfortless  fashion  through 
the  open  chimney  grimy  raindrops  fell  in  frequent 
spurts. 

His  "auld  wife,"  a  plaid  about  her  shoulders,  and  an 
umbrella — or,  rather,  a  blue  roof — in  her  hand,  had  set 
out  at  an  early  hour  on  a  five-mile  walk  to  the  "mer- 
chant's"— that  is,  to  the  store  of  the  universal  provider 
of  the  place,  an  emporium  warranted  to  supply  all 
human  wants,  from  curling  irons  down  to  a  ha'porth  of 
treacle,  in  addition  to  which  large  enterprise  the  "mer- 
chant" had  undertaken  to  manage  the  post-office  neces- 
sities for  ten  miles  round.  Those  who  possessed  their 
souls  in  patience  were  really  likely  to  get  their  needs 

179 


I  So  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

supplied  at  the  shop,  for  it  was  well  stocked.  But  the 
drawback  of  a  monopoly  is  to  breed  an  indifference  of 
spirit  which  rebels  against  the  routine  involved  in  busi- 
ness habits.  So  that  the  customer,  arriving  hot  and 
breathless  from  a  long  and  burdened  peregrination  over 
the  hills,  was  as  likely  as  not  to  discover  the  post- 
master and  manager  nodding  in  the  back  parlor  in  a 
hopelessly  bewhiskied  slumber,  while  a  slow  and  con- 
fused boy  pottered  over  the  post-office  business,  from 
which  no  entreaty  could  seduce  him ;  and  the  girl 
engaged  in  farm  work  at  the  back  would  peep  in  to 
acquaint  herself  with  the  customer  and,  ten  to  one, 
would  disappear  again  with  a  final  air. 

Old  Rorie,  therefore,  from  prolonged  experience,  did 
not  expect  the  return  of  his  wife  for  hours  to  come;  as 
for  Colin,  he  was  attending  the  sale  .of  corn  with  John 
McKenzie.  So  that  the  old  man's  mind,  roused  to 
momentary  attention,  trotted  off  again  tranquilly  to 
fifty  years  ago,  when  the  things  that  happened  had  not 
so  dim  and  vague  an  air,  and  when  the  fluttering  of  a 
shawl — by  no  means  belonging  to  the  present  Mrs. 
Macgillvray — had  been  an  incident  of  consequence. 
The  world  was  not  so  good  as  it  had  been,  old  Rorie 
frequently  remarked ;  events  had  little  interest. 
Whisky,  it  is  true,  retained  its  fascination,  and  while 
his  eyes  twinkled  at  the  peats  in  the  delights  of  dis- 
reputable reminiscence,  his  old  hand  sought  at  the 
shelf  by  his  side.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  the 
old  fellow  had  been  left  at  home  alone  on  parole,  for 
Mrs.  Macgillvray  held  it  a  disgrace  to  be  drunken  at 
the  third  hour  of  the  day ;  nevertheless,  his  fingers 
were  just  nearing  the  recess  where  the  whisky  bottle 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  181 

stood,  when  a  knock  came  at  the  door.  Old  Rorie's 
hand  was  jerked  down  by  frightened  conscience,  much 
as  the  hand  of  a  child  is  snatched  back  from  forbidden 
sweetmeats,  and  he  stared  hard  at  the  direction  of  the 
sound.  It  came  back  again.  Then  he  felt  for  his  staff, 
and  slowly  raised  himself,  showing  as  he  stood  up  on 
the  kitchen  floor  a  not  inconsiderable  height,  and  went 
to  the  outside  door  and  opened  it. 

A  little  figure  in  gray  stood  there,  at  the  sight  of 
which  he  jerked  his  head  forward  in  an  attempt  to  sur- 
prise his  senses  into  grasping  its  full  meaning,  and 
then,  lifting  himself  to  as  erect  a  posture  as  possible, 
made  the  salute  of  the  peasant.  He  did  not  in  the 
least  recognize  in  Jessamine  the  McKenzies'  farm  help, 
of  whom  he  had  heard  much,  but  he  did  recognize  the 
air  of  a  great  lady. 

"Is  Mr.  Colin  Macgillvray  at  home?"  asked  Jessa- 
mine, who  knew  very  well  that  he  was  not. 

"No,  mem;  Colin  is  away.  He  went  west  this  morn- 
ing, and  he  was  taking  the  horse  and  cart." 

"Will  he  return  soon?" 

"I'm  thinking,  mem,  that  he  will  be  back  this  even- 
ing. He  was  going  to  a  sale  of  corn  with  John  McKen- 
zie.  Him  and  John  will  be  great  friends,  ye  see." 

"I  am  sorry  not  to  find  him  in.     It  rains  fast." 

"It's  a  very  bad  morning  whatever.  Will  ye~come 
in,  mem,  and  rest  ye  a  while?" 

"Thank  you." 

Jessamine  stepped  forward  without  alacrity.  She 
had  been  gazing  at  old  Rorie's  face  with  fascinated 
interest,  and  yet  with  horror.  It  was  so  fine  and  yet 
so  grotesque,  the  civilization  faintly  veneered  over  the 


1 82  A   SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

obvious  barbarism.  His  features  were  of  the  Scandi- 
navian type,  the  racial  markings  still  as  pronounced  as 
in  the  age  when  the  Viking  harried  the  coasts.  The 
upper  classes  pare  away  the  traces  of  their  ancestry ; 
the  rustic  peasant  startles  the  fastidious  by  retaining 
them  unmodified.  Moreover,  besides  his  wild  though 
grand  tribal  features,  old  Rorie  was  not  clean,  nor  were 
his  manners  pleasant ;  his  corduroy  clothes  were  greasy, 
and  his  woolen  shirt  was  open,  revealing  a  shaggy 
breast.  The  course  of  ages  and  the  surrounding  of  a 
gentle-mannered  people  had,  as  it  were,  trimmed  the 
claws  of  the  ogre ;  old  Rorie  was  incapable  of  cruelty, 
he  was  hospitable,  and  had  a  strong  sense  of  personal 
dignity;  he  possessed  with  this  a  conservative  though 
independent  respect  for  the  Laird  and  the  great  world 
of  which  he  knew  nothing;  he  believed  in  the  election 
of  the  saints,  and  had  no  doubt  of  his  own  salvation ; 
and  though  his  youth  had  been  somewhat  tinctured 
with  the  disreputable  element — and  in  the  matter  of 
"whusky"  he  was  still  an  impenitent — on  the  whole  he 
was  reckoned  among  the  highly  respectable  members 
of  society.  But,  then,  Culture  had  given  but  the 
hastiest  daub  to  his  once  splendid  animal  physique;  of 
all  that  manifold  limitation  in  air,  speech,  gesture, 
which  we  call  "good  manners,"  and  which  is  woven  out 
of  an  inherited  and  acquired  knowledge  of  that  which 
is  pleasant  or  unpleasant  to  our  fellows,  he  knew  noth- 
ing. The  Unlimited  and  the  Dubious  render  intercourse 
impossible ;  disparity  of  manner  is  as  disparity  of  race — 
an  incalculable  thing.  Jessamine  therefore  followed 
old  Rorie  with  trembling;  she  would  have  shivered  to 
have  followed  a  Red  Indian  into  his  wigwam,  or  a  Zulu 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  183 

into  his  kraal,  or  an  amiable  gorilla  up  his  tree,  and  her 
sensations  were  not  materially  different  now. 

Still,  she  was  resolved.     He  was  Colin's  father. 

"May  I  see  your  kitchen?"  asked  she,  as  old  Rorie 
turned  to  the  room  on  the  left,  to  which  Colin  had 
ushered  her  on  her  first  visit  to  Dalfaber. 

"Oh,  yes,  mem!"  answered  Rorie;  "it  will  just  not 
be  cleaned  up  the  morn,  ye  see.  But  ye  can  come  in 
and  welcome." 

He  opened  the  door  into  the  kitchen,  where  he  had 
just  been  sitting.  It  was  a  square  room,  with  low 
wooden  rafters,  and  the  rafters  and  ceiling  were  black 
with  smoke.  The  floor  was  of  stone,  and  so  was  the 
hearth.  This  last  was  simply  a  flat  surface  raised  two 
or  three  inches,  and  extending  across  the  room ;  the 
arch  of  the  chimney  hung  above  it,  and  was  simply  an 
immense  cavernous  aperture — the  size  of  a  small 
room — which,  without  diminution  in  its  proportions, 
opened  to  the  sky.  The  shelterless  nature  of  such  a 
contrivance  was  exemplified  now  by  the  dribbles  of 
wet  which  came  down  the  soot-covered  wall  and  fell 
about  the  hearth.  Old  Macgillvray,  however,  evi- 
dently regarded  his  chimney  as  a  show;  he  beckoned 
Jessamine  to  approach  the  hearth  and  to  look  up.  She 
did  so,  and  saw  four  stone  walls  festooned  with  soot ; 
above  them  a  gray  sky,  across  which  trails  of  rain  cloud 
swept.  A  thin  spiral  of  smoke  was  whirling  about 
toward  the  top  in  momentary  indecision  whether  to 
rise  or  descend. 

"Surely,"  said  Jessamine,  "you  are  smothered  with 
smoke  on  windy  days?" 

"Oh,   ay!"  answered  old    Rorie;    "we  will    just    be 


i?4  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

smothered.  Ye  see,  the  vent's  too  large.  Ye  see,  the 
smoke  blaws  down  back  into  the  room,  and  that  makes 
the  rafters  black.  And,  ye  see,  it  will  be  verra  cauld 
in  the  wunther  time.  But,"  added  he,  "we're  used 
to  it." 

His  smoke-ingrained  skin  well  testified  that  Time 
had  lent  the  clemency  of  habit. 

As  for  the  rest  of  the  room,  there  were  good  presses 
against  the  wall ;  there  was  a  table,  a  wooden  bench, 
and  a  chair  or  two,  shelves  with  pots  and  pans,  and  an 
indescribable  piece  of  furniture,  which  Jessamine  sus- 
pected to  be  a  bed. 

"Will  your  Highness  like  to  see  the  other  room?" 
asked  old  Rorie,  throwing  in  a  title  which  he  judged 
commensurate  with  his  guest's  distinguished  air. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Jessamine,  unwilling  to  confess 
to  a  former  visit. 

"We  live  mostly  in  the  kitchen,  ye  see,  for  comfort," 
explained  old  Rorie;  "but  we  have  the  parlor." 

And  he  led  the  way  to  the  other  well-remembered 
room.  There  was  the  bed  in  the  alcove,  the  clothes 
tossed  aside  as  Colin  had  left  them  that  morning;  a 
couple  of  tables,  a  few  chairs,  a  rifle  leaning  against  the 
wall,  a  small  looking-glass  (for  Colin  was  something  of 
a  dandy),  one  or  two  books,  a  vase  or  two  upon  the 
mantelpiece,  and  a  small  ordinary  grate.  The  floor 
was  without  drugget,  but  everything  was  neat  and 
orderly. 

"This  will  be  the  parlor,  mem,  and  that  will  be 
Colin's  bed.  Colin  sleeps  here,  mem.  This  will  be  his 
rifle,  for  Colin  was  joining  the  volunteers,  ye  see." 

"Colin  is  your  only  son?" 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  185 

"Colin  will  be  our  only  son,  mem.  He  will  be  hav- 
ing the  farm  after  me." 

Here  old  Rorie  assumed  a  confidential  air,  and  ap- 
proached close  to  Jessamine,  who  felt  exceedingly 
alarmed ;  nor  was  she  at  all  encouraged  by  the  laying 
of  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder. 

"He  will  be  a  solid  man,  ye  see,  mem,  with  money 
at  the  bank.  I'm  telling  ye  this,  mem,  not  to  boast, 
but  that  ye  may  just  know  that  Colin  will  be  some- 
thing. He  was  ever  a  very  quiet  lad  with  his  words." 

"You  live  very  simply,"  said  Jessamine,  edging  back 
nervously  from  the  old  peasant's  confidences. 

"Oh,  ay!  verra  simple.  Just  porridge  and  potaties, 
with  a  kipper  now  and  then,  and  milk.  That  will  be 
it — a  verra  good  diet,  ye  see.  Folks  will  be  overheat- 
ing themselves  with  meat.  Oh,  ay !  I'm  often  saying 
that  porridge  is  the  finest  diet  in  the  world." 

Jessamine  smiled.  Not  even  the  terrible  presence 
of  old  Rorie  could  quite  overshadow  the  wistful  strange- 
ness in  her  heart  at  standing  in  the  room  of  the  man 
she  loved.  She  leaned  against  the  window  frame,  look- 
ing out  upon  his  beloved  landscape,  and  ineffectually 
envying  his  austerity  and  simplicity. 

"Ye  must  excuse  me,  mem,"  said  old  Rorie,  seeing 
that  she  made  no  answer,  "if  I  am  not  speaking  the 
English  right.  Ye  see,  I'm  not  verra  good  at  the 
English." 

"Oh!"  said  Jessamine;  "do  you  speak  Gaelic?" 

"Oh,  ay!  We  will  just  be  talking  the  Gaelic  at 
home.  I  can  go  into  more  things  in  the  Gaelic.  I 
must  ever  be  looking  for  my  words  in  the  English,  your 
Highness  will  understand." 


1 86  A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN. 

Jessamine  looked  up  quickly,  a  pink  spot  in  either 
cheek. 

"Do  not  call  me  'y°ur  Highness.'  I  am — the 
McKenzies'  farm  help  at  Drynoch." 

Old  Rorie's  jaw  dropped  at  this  information.  His 
mind  had  a  long  way  to  travel  from  the  title  of  his 
invention  to  the  simplicity  of  Jessamine's  claim,  and 
her  aspect  belied  her  words.  At  last,  while  she 
rather  tremulously  watched  him,  the  bewilderment 
passed  from  his  face.  He  made  an  emphatic  gesture 
with  his  hand,  bringing  it  down  to  his.  side  with  a 
slap. 

"Aweel,"  said  he — "aweel,  the  farm  help  at  McKen- 
zies'. It's  come  on  me  of  a  suddenty.  Dear,  dear, 
dear !  I'm  no  verra  good  with  my  eyes,  and  I  was  tak- 
ing ye  for  a  grand  leddy.  Ay,  but  ye  are  bonnie ;  I'm 
no  so  blind  but  I  can  see  that.  Ye  are  bonnie.  Lads 
will  let  ye  know  it,  I'm  thinking.  Ay,  ye'll  be  trailing 
a  good  few  at  your  heels!  Ay,  I  was  hearing  of  ye — a 
bonnie  wee  lassie  at  McKenzies'!  But  ye'll  no  be 
much  hand  at  the  working?" 

"I  am  strong.  I  can  do  as  much  as  most.  Mrs. 
McKenzie  thinks  I  have  learned  a  good  deal,"  said 
Jessamine,  feeling  rather  like  one  who  has  swept  down 
all  defenses  with  his  own  hand. 

"Ay,  ye  will  just  be  learning,  so  as  ye  can  manage 
your  own  farm,  I'm  thinking." 

He  turned  rather  a  cunning  eye  upon  her. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Jessamine;  then  she  added  hastily: 
"And  are  you  able  to  work  upon  the  land  yourself  still, 
Mr.  Macgillvray?" 

"Oh,  ay!     I  can  plant  and  hoe  and  lift  potaties  my- 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  187 

self  verra  weel.  But  Colin,  he  will  be  rare  at  the  work- 
ing, mem." 

He  looked  sideways  at  Jessamine,  a  cunning  thought 
visibly  changing  his  features,  and  he  nodded  his  head 
more  than  once. 

"Indeed,"  said  Jessamine. 

The  old  man  approached  again  with  his  terrifying  air 
of  confidence.  Jessamine's  little  start  backward  did 
not  discourage  him.  He  came  and  laid  a  patronizing 
hand  upon  her  shoulder. 

"Ay,  Colin  will  be  an  awful  clever  lad !  When  he 
was  a  bit  bairn,  and  a  charge  was  laid  upon  him,  he 
was  aye  on  the  alert.  Oh,  yes!  he  will  just  go  straight 
on,  and  ye  won't  be  stopping  him.  He  will  have  the 
farm  when  I'm  gone,  mem.  And  Colin  will  be  a  great 
match,  mem — a  solid  man  with  money  in  the  bank. 
Ay,  ay,  I  was  a  saving  mon  in  my  day !  And  Colin's 
bonnie,  mem — bonnie!" 

Still  with  his  hand  on  her  shoulder,  he  looked  into 
her  face,  grinning  confidentially. 

"Yes,"  murmured  Jessamine  faintly. 

"The  lassies  was  ever  running  after  Colin!" 

He  gave  her  shoulder  a  pat  as  he  spoke,  and  then 
drew  back,  and  expanded  himself  into  the  joviality  of 
reminiscence. 

"I  was  a  great  mon  for  lassies  when  I  was  young. 
But  that  will  be  a  great  while  ago,  mem." 

"Yes." 

"Eighty  years,  I'm  thinking,  or  more.  But  I  was 
ever  for  lassies,  and  Colin  will  be  his  father's  own  son — 
favors  me,  mem,  in  his  features.  But  he  will  be 
quieter." 


188  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"Yes." 

"Lassies  will  be  ever  running  after  him,  though. 
They  will  know  a  bonnie  lad  when  they  will  see  one. 
I  was  saying  to  Colin :  'Colin,'  I  was  saying,  'ye'll  be 
choosing  a  lass  one  o'  these  days.'  " 

Old  Rorie  chuckled. 

"Yes." 

"And  Colin  was  just  laughing." 

Old  Rorie  bent  himself  together  in  a  quite  inexplica- 
ble ecstasy. 

"Yes,"  said  Jessamine. 

"I'm  saying  to  him  sometimes:  'Colin,'  I  am  saying, 
'ye  will  be  choosing  a  lassie  and  bringing  her  home.' ' 

Again  he  approached  Jessamine,  and,  laying  the  tips 
of  his  fingers  upon  her  shoulder,  stood  leaning  back 
and  chuckling  with  a  lively  mirth.  She  gazed  at  him 
with  fascinated  intensity,  tracing  through  his  dirt  and 
grotesque  manners  the  curious  faint  remains  of  Colin's 
"bonniness"  and  grandeur  in  type  of  which  he  had 
claimed  the  parentage.  Suddenly  he  withdrew  his 
hand,  and  crumpled  up  his  smiling  features  into  a 
shrewder  look. 

"Ye  see,"  said  he,  "we  will  be  wanting  a  lassie  about 
the  bit  hoosie  now.  The  auld  wife  she's  aging  fast, 
and  we  would  be  glad — verra  glad — of  a  thumping 
lassie  to  scrub  round  and  gather  and  hoe  a  bit.  But 
my  Colin,  he's  slaw,  I  tell  ye ;  slaw  and  canny  my  Colin 
will  be." 

He  shook  his  head  with  affected  gravity  and  great 
concern. 

"Ay,  my  Colin's  slaw.  But  I'll  just  be  telling  ye  ae 
thing.  And  I'd  no  be  telling  it  to  every  lassie.  My 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  189 

Colin  will  stick.  A  lassie  will  just  be  dealing  skeelfu' 
with  my  Colin,  and  he'll  stick.  Slaw  he  may  be ;  but 
he  ever  was  for  sticking  since  he  was  young." 

He  surveyed  her  to  see  the  effect  of  his  words. 

"Yes,"  said  Jessamine. 

"And  I'll  tell  ye  ae  ither  thing.  My  Colin's  aye  very 
tender  in  his  feelings.  Gude  bless  ye !  I  was  myself 
when  I  was  young.  But  a  mon  wears  a  bit  better 
when  he  will  be  eighty  year.  My  Colin  he  will  be  ten- 
der. And  a  lassie  will  just  be  saying  'snap'  to  his 
'snip.'  A  lassie  will  if  she  was  skeelfu'.  And  my  Colin 
he  will  stick." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  these  predicates,  old 
Rorie  drew  a  deep  breath  and  gazed  down  at  the 
"lassie"  before  him. 

"I  am  rested  now,"  said  Jessamine,  whose  eyes 
perused  the  ground,  "and  I  think  the  rain  has  stopped. 
I  will  go  now,  and  I  thank  you  very  much." 

Rorie  disentangled  his  mind  with  difficulty  from  its 
preoccupation,  and  with  a  very  dignified  air  opened  the 
door  to  let  Jessamine  pass.  As  she  did  so  she  glanced 
up  the  staircase,  which  disappeared  into  some  nonde- 
script region  above. 

"That  is  your  bedroom  up  there,  I  suppose?"  said 
she. 

"Oh,  na!  That  will  just  be  a  make  o'  loft.  Me  and 
my  auld  wife  we  sleep  in  the  kitchen — just  for  comfort, 
ye  see.  But,"  he  added  cunningly,  "I'm  not  for  say- 
ing that  Colin  wouldn't  knock  up  a  bit  room  upstairs 
for  the  lass  and  the  bairnies  when  they  come." 

"When  Colin  is  married,  you  and  Mrs.  Macgillvray 
will  remain  here,  then?" 


19°  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"Oh,  ay!"  returned  old  Rorie,  with  the  tranquillity 
of  full  assurance;  "he  wouldn't  be  turning  on  his  old 
father  and  mother  whatever." 

"No.  I  will  go  now,  Mr.  Macgillvray.  Thank  you, 
and  good-by." 

"Good-morning  to  ye,  mem,"  said  the  old  peasant, 
standing  on  the  threshold,  and  involuntarily  saluting 
the  high-breeding  in  Jessamine.  "I  am  most  pleased 
to  be  seeing  ye,  and  we  will  be  verra  pleased  if  we  was 
seeing  ye  again." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THAT  evening  Jessamine  stood  in  the  small  inclosure 
which  contained  McKenzie's  barns  and  outbuildings, 
her  hand  resting  upon  the  railings. 

It  was  the  place  in  which  she  had  first  become  aware 
of  Colin's  existence.  Her  face  looked  worn  and  pale, 
and  she  grasped  the  rail  firmly  so  that  the  knuckles  of 
her  hand  looked  white  under  the  skin ;  this  was  the 
sole  sign  of  the  tension  of  her  mind.  All  day  she  had 
done  no  work.  The  storms  of  the  morning  had  ended 
in  a  steady  drizzle  of  rain,  and  it  was  chilly  enough ; 
the  landscape  was  gloomy,  the  nearer  details  sordid 
under  the  dripping  wet,  the  hills  covered  with  shreds 
and  trails  of  chalky  mist,  and  overweighted  with  the 
heavy  roll  of  black  clouds  of  moisture  upon  them. 
Jessamine's  eyes  looked  steadily  southward.  The 
stern  and  unillumined  front  of  a  hill,  down  which  the 
storm  rack  crept  with  chilly  clinging  hands,  intercepted 
her  gaze ;  but  there  was  an  expression  in  her  eyes  as 
though  this  natural  barrier  had  melted  before  their 
penetrating  rays,  and  they  saw  something  beyond  and 
far  off. 

She  wore  a  gray  Glengarry  bonnet  and  a  gray  plaid 
about  her  shoulders;  her  position  was  uncomfortable, 
but  she  had  chosen  it  rather  than  endure  the  closeness 
and  dullness  of  the  little  square  chamber;  the  air,  at 
least,  was  fresh  and  sweet.  But  it  was  silent ;  every- 


I92  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

thing  that  runs  or  flies,  chirrups  or  sings,  and  lends  its 
little  being  to  help  make  up  the  cheerful  intermingling 
of  sound  and  movement,  seemed  to  have  sought  its  lair 
and  to  have  hurried  beneath  the  ground ;  the  very  rain 
fell  without  its  usual  jovial  tinkle,  it  was  but  the  noise- 
less emptying  of  one  of  those  cold  and  chalky  clouds, 
and  its  drip  washed  out  rather  than  intensified  the 
colors  of  the  grass  and  heather  and  foliage. 

Suddenly  Jessamine  gave  a  violent  start.  Her  eyes 
flashed  and  dilated,  and  a  glow  as  from  some  reflected 
sunlight  burned  in  her  face.  She  withdrew  a  step  from 
the  railing  and  looked  to  the  right.  A  cautious  step 
among  the  bushes  had  been  to  her  heart  an  unmistaka- 
ble signal ;  and  now  from  the  mist  and  grayness  of  the 
birch  wood  Colin's  form  appeared  and  stood  out  on  the 
green  knoll  near.  He  looked  at  the  house  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  discovered  her.  She  was  gazing  at  him 
with  a  curious  panting  fear  in  her  eyes. 

"Jessie,  my  do'e!     Ye're  waiting!" 

And  he  ran  down  to  her.     The  fence  was  between. 

"No!"  said  she,  drawing  still  further  back  and 
speaking  almost  sharply;  "I  thought  you  were 
away." 

"Aweel?  But  ye're  here,  and  it  makes  no  differ- 
ence." 

"Have  you  bought  your  corn?  And  has  Mr. 
McKenzie  returned?" 

"Oh,  yes.  We  bought  a  stock  for  seed.  John  will 
not  be  back  yet.  He  was  staying  at  McKenzie  Craig- 
owries's — his  cousin,  ye'll  understand." 

"He  will  be  returning,  Colin,  and,  if  so,  he  will  see 
me.  I  should  not  like  that." 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  193 

She  made  as  though  she  would  withdraw,  and  a 
blank  look  drove  the  radiance  out  of  Colin's  face. 

"O  Jessie!  Ye  maunna  be  going!  Why,  lassie,  I 
was  not  seeing  ye  all  day !" 

' '  Is  that  so  very  necessary  ?"  asked  Jessamine,  mourn- 
fulness  chasing  the  sweetness  of  her  smile. 

"I'm  thinking  it's  likely  ye  need  be  asking  that! 
Jessie,  I'm  coming  over  the  fence!" 

"No,  Colin,  no!" 

"Ay,  Jessie,  ay!  I'm  no  for  bearing  these  bits  of 
iron  between.  I've  had  no  kiss." 

"Colin,  stoop  your  head.     I  will  give  you  one." 

"Your  own  self,  lassie?" 

"Yes." 

He  stooped  his  head  over  the  fence,  and  Jessamine, 
pulling  at  the  lapels  of  his  coat,  stretched  herself  up 
and  touched  his  mouth  with  her  lips.  It  went  to  his 
heart  like  a  sting.  In  another  moment  he  was  over  the 
fence  and  had  her  in  his  arms. 

"Colin,"  said  Jessamine,  "let  me  go!  You  are  crush- 
ing me  to  pieces!  I  thought  I  forbade  you  to  come 
over  the  fence !" 

"Ye'll  be  forbidding  the  sun  to  shine,  and  the  wind 
to  blaw,  and  the  burn  to  run  down  the  hill,  winna  ye, 
lassie?" 

"Perhaps  Mrs.  McKenzie  has  seen  you  from  the  win- 
dows." 

"Then,  lassie,  I  must  be  making  my  bit  explanation. 
I  have  got,  ye'll  understand,"  he  added  gravely,  "to  be 
telling  McKenzie  soon." 

Jessamine,  who,  after  an  anxious  scrutiny  of  the 
road,  had  retired  to  the  protecting  angle  of  a  barn, 


194  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

stood  with  her  back  against  the  wall.  Her  face  was 
red  enough  now,  and  her  breast  rose  and  fell ;  Colin, 
the  very  picture  of  a  handsome  and  triumphant  lover 
stood  looking  down  upon  her,  his  eyes  wandering  over 
the  flowerlike  face,  and  his  heart  a  mere  suffusion  of 
mingled  tenderness  and  worship. 

"Colin,"  said  Jessamine,  in  a  rapid  entreating  tone, 
"promise  me  something." 

"If  it's  no  against  nature,  lassie,  I'll  promise  ye  any- 
thing. I'll  no  promise  not  to  kiss  ye  again  in  a 
minute." 

I    want   you  to  listen    in    real  earnest,"  said  she 
anxiously.     "You  said  you  would  promise?" 

"Ay,  lassie." 

"Promise  me  not  to  tell  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McKenzie  any- 
thing at  present." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  If  Jessamine  had 
looked  up,  which  she  did  not  do,  she  would  have  seen 
in  Colin's  eyes  a  little  flash  of  pained  astonishment. 

"Not  tell?  Aweel,  Jessie,  that  will  be  as  ye  like,  my 
lo'e.  Come,"  he  added  tenderly,  "a  little  nearer.  I 
cannot  see  your  eyes." 

As  he  spoke  he  put  his  arm  out  and  drew  her  close 
to  his  side.  The  pressure  was  more  like  that  of  a  pro- 
tecting husband  than  of  a  passionate  lover.  And 
Jessamine  yielded  to  it  tranquilly,  laying  her  hand  in 
his,  and  looking  up  to  his  face  with  eyes  swimming  in 
tenderness. 

"Not  tell,  my  lassie?"  he  repeated,  as  he  bent  down 
to  look  closer  into  them. 

"You  do  not  understand,"  said  she,  her  lids  droop- 
ing for  the  moment. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  195 

"That  may  be.  But  it  will  be  my  part,  I'm  think- 
ing, just  to — to — be  seeing  that  folks  about  gets  no 
wrong  notions  into  their  heads." 

He  loosed  his  hand  from  her  small  clinging  fingers, 
and,  folding  both  arms  about  her,  pressed  her  jealously 
to  his  breast.  She  lay  there  with  her  cheek  pressed 
against  his  coat  and  her  eyes  looking  up  at  him  with  a 
sad  inscrutable  gaze. 

"We  see  things  differently,  Colin,"  murmured  she. 

"Oh,  ay !  Ye  will  be  versed  in  many  things  that  I 
was  hearing  nothing  of.  But  if  ye  love  me  it  will  be 
all  one." 

"  I  do  love  you,  Colin,"  said  Jessamine,  with  sudden 
emotion. 

And  she  lifted  her  arms  and  tightened  their  grasp 
about  his  neck,  and  once  more  startled  his  lips  with  the 
soft  fire  of  her  own. 

"That's  well,  lassie,"  said  he,  the  grave  depth  of  his 
voice  intensified  by  tenderness;  "it  is  like  the  opening 
of  heaven's  gate  to  hear  it.  Many  and  many's  the 
time  I  was  thinking  of  love;  but  I  was  never  seeing 
the  lassie  that  could  just  make  me  in  love  with 
love." 

"But  when  you  saw  me,  Colin?" 

"I  was  just  set  of  a  sudden  out  of  earth  into 
heaven." 

"Yet  you  thought  ill  of  me  at  first — the  day  you 
came  into  the  yard  and  stood  staring  at  me,  Colin,  so 
as  quite  to  frighten  me." 

"Ill  of  you?  Na!  na!  I  was  just  thinking  that  you 
were  a  make  of  lassie  I  was  just  not  seeing  before,  and 
that  a  man  had  need  to  be  cautious " 


196  A    SUPERFLUOUS    IV OMAN. 

"Cautious?" 

"Ay!  Cautious  when  wraiths  and  witches  were 
about." 

"You  were  right !"  said  Jessamine,  with  bitter  energy. 

"Right  was  I?  Well,  I'm  no  saying  but  there's 
witchery  in  your  kiss,  lassie — my  ain,  ain  lassie !  But 
wrong,  because  you  love  me." 

"Do  you  trust  me  so  much,  Colin?" 

"Oh,  ay!    'What  else  would  I  just  be  doing?" 

"Yet  you  know  little  of  me.  Perhaps — it  is  just 
possible — I  am  different  from  your  ideas." 

"Oh,  may  be.  It  will  just  be  a  verra  pleasant  page 
to  learn,  I'm  thinking." 

"Colin,  you  always  seemed  canny — cautious.  Yet 
you're  taking  up  a  new  book,  and  thinking,  like  a  child, 
that  it  will  be  all  straight  reading  and  pleasant." 

He  laughed.  Then  he  laid  his  hand  against  the 
curve  of  her  cheek  and  chin,  and  lifted  her  face  a  little, 
and  kissed  her  mouth  and  eyelids.  It  was  so  small 
and  flowerlike  a  face,  the  figure  in  his  arms  was  so 
slight,  the  locks  of  hair  ruffled  against  his  breast  were 
so  fresh  and  curly  and  childlike ! 

"I'm  thinking  I'll  just  risk  all  that's  written  there. 
Once  I've  folded  ye  to  my  heart,  Jessie,  I'm  not  the 
man  to  go  back  on  a  tough  bit  or  two.  I'm  thinking 
that  I'd  rather  like  a  wrestle  with  ye." 

"Colin,  Colin,  be  warned!" 

It  was  almost  as  though  a  bird  should  chirp  out  a 
caution,  or  a  child  exhort  its  elder.  What  in  her  was 
there  which  he  could  not  master? 

"Warned?"  said  he,  with  a  low,  murmuring  laugh; 
"I'll  show  ye  how!" 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  1 97 

"Colin,  Colin,  you  frighten  me!  I  cannot  breathe. 
You  must  not  kiss  me  again  to-night." 

And  she  struggled  in  his  arms  until  he  loosened  them 
and  let  her  slip  from  him. 

"I  saw  your  father  to-day,"  said  she,  rearranging  her 
plaid,  and  beating  the  wet  out  of  the  Glengarry  bon- 
net, which  had  long  since  tumbled  on  the  ground. 

"Did  you?"  said  Colin,  his  face  lighting  up  with 
mingled  surprise  and  anxiety. 

"Yes." 

"You  called  there?"  asked  he,  with  a  dubious  air. 

"Yes." 

"Well?" 

"Your  father  is  a  splendid  old  man." 

"Oh,  ay!     You  saw  my  mither?" 

"No." 

He  waited  for  more,  a  vague  unrest  troubling  his 
heart.  He  scarcely  liked  this  independent  call  at  Dal- 
faber  when  he  had  not  been  there  to  soften  its  asperi- 
ties. His  eyes  were  downcast.  Jessamine  watched  his 
face  with  remorseful  sympathy. 

"Jessie,"  said  he,  looking  up  at  last,  "ye're  but  a  bit 
lassie.  Ye  shall  have  a  servant  when  ye're  my  wife." 

Jessamine  looked  away  with  a  curious  creeping  of 
blankness  over  the  love  light  and  color  in  her  face. 

"Thank  you,  Colin,"  said  she  softly. 

"I'll  be  telling  my  father  and  my  mither  to-night," 
said  he. 

She  glanced  at  him  quickly,  alarm  shooting  into  her 
eyes. 

"No,  Colin.     Promise  me  you  will  do  no  such  thing." 

He  came  nearer,  and  looked  longingly  at  the  little 


198  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

bit  of  warm  white  throat  he  could  see  between   the 
folds  of  her  plaid ;  but  he  made  no  effort  to  kiss  her. 

"Have  you  ever  a  mither,  Jessie?"  asked  he,  with 
grave  tenderness. 

"No;  I  have  no  mother.  I  never  knew  what  it  is  to 
have  a  mother,  Colin." 

A  vision  of  Aunt  Arabella,  of  her  high-ridged  nose, 
the  elegant  insipidity  of  her  visage,  rose  to  Jessamine's 
mind,  and  sharpened  her  tone  as  she  spoke. 

"That  will  be  a  verra  great  loss,  my  do'e — a  verra 
great  loss.  I'm  thinking  I  will  have  to  be  mother  and 
man  to  ye  both." 

He  looked  at  her  leniently  as  one  looks  at  a  child 
who  needs  directing.  She  looked  at  him  with  the  sad, 
unfathomable  eyes  of  those  who  are  learned  in  life  and 
the  world.  He  took  her  hand  in  his  own.  She  turned 
her  head  away. 

"Jessie,  lass,  it  will  be  sweet  to  me  to  carry  a  secret 
i'  my  breast,  and  share  it  just  with  ye  alone." 

She  made  no  reply,  but  the  leaping  of  color  to  her 
cheek  showed  that  she  listened. 

"But  I'm  like  a  partly  drunken  man  with  wine  still 
before  him,  when  I  see  ye,  Jessie." 

A  smile  like  a  meteor  lit  up  her  eyes. 

"And  I'm  kind  of  jealous  of  myself.  I'd  like  to  build 
a  church  about  ye." 

Jessamine  shuddered. 

"Oh,  no,  no!     I  should  not  like  it." 

And,  turning  her  face,  she  suddenly  lifted  her  eyes  to 
his  with  a  soft,  mysterious,  tempting  light  in  them. 

"Bonnie,  bonnie  bird!"  he  murmured. 

He  stretched  his  hand  toward  her,  but  she  drew  a 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  199 

little  further  off,  and  stood  gazing  into  the  murky, 
misty  gray  where  the  south  was.  She  was  so  still  that 
Colin  did  not  venture  to  interrupt  her  thoughts;  she 
stood  lifting  the  drenched  plaid  to  her  chin,  and  slightly 
shivering  now  and  then.  With  her  great  beauty  still 
before  him,  he  had  not  room  in  his  mind  to  discover 
how  inscrutable  she  was.  At  last  she  spoke.  Her 
eyes  lifted  themselves  no  higher  than  the  top  button 
of  his  coat,  and  her  voice,  in  its  low,  firm  tone,  seemed 
driven  out  of  her  by  a  studied  effort  of  will. 

"Colin,"  said  she,  "I  will  give  you  leave  to  tell  John 
and  Annie  McKenzie  and  your  father  and  mother  in 
three  days'  time  from  this — if  you  still  wish  it  then" 

"I  see  no  harm  in  that  delay  whatever.  And  I'd 
willingly  lengthen  out  my  joy,  for  it  will  be  a  joy  to 
steal  round  and  see  ye,  Jessie — to  know  ye're  all  mine, 
and  no  one  else  to  guess  it." 

"You  feel  it  so?"  she  asked,  with  a  low,  wild  little 
laugh  and  a  darting  look. 

And  then  she  shivered  again. 

"Good-night,  Colin ;  I  am  going." 

"Bide  awee.  I'm  no  saying  that  I  can  wait  these 
three  days  and  not  see  ye !  I  must  see  ye,  Jessie." 

"Well,  where?"  said  she,  with  a  sudden  fierceness 
of  intonation. 

"Could  ye  trust  me,  lassie?"  asked  he  hesitatingly. 

She  looked  in  his  eyes  with  a  wild  challenging 
smile — triumph  and  dread  in  one. 

"Ay,  how  ye  look!  Lassie,  every  glance  ye  give  me 
goes  straight  to  my  heart.  I  feel  partly  mad.  But  if 
ye  can  trust  me,  come  to-morrow  night  to  the  new  barn 
by  the  stack.  Come,  and  ye'll  find  me  waiting." 


200  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"I'll  come — I'll  come!" 

Her  eyes  were  meteors. 

"Gude  bless  ye,  my  lassie!     But — but— 

"What,  Colin?" 

He  raised  his  hand,  and  laid  it  confusedly  upon  his 
brow.  Jessamine  crept  near  again,  and  leaned  against 
him,  watching  him.  Her  looks  were  wild,  her  lips  were 
parted  by  quick  breaths,  and  her  bosom  panted. 

The  man  gave  a  great  sigh,  and  dropped  his  hand. 

"Oh,  naething!  Ye'll  just  come,"  he  said,  in  a  falter- 
ing whisper. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

WOMEN,  when  they  are  frail,  are  so  in  great  measure 
because  they  have  not  been  instructed  in  the  nature  of 
choice,  nor  taught  the  art  of  selection,  nor  the  mean- 
ing of  responsibility.  Willfulness  they  may  know,  but 
not  too  many  are  acquainted  with  will. 

Jessamine's  mental  debate  was  in  an  ever  increasing 
darkness — if,  indeed,  it  could  be  dignified  with  the 
name  of  debate.  She  was  merely  a  prey  to  varying 
strong  impulses,  a  thing  passively  delivered  over  to  a 
struggle  between  opposing  inducements.  Shaken  with 
longings  and  terrors  either  way,  she  stood  wondering 
whither  her  fate  would  lead  her  at  the  last.  There 
was  an  element  in  her  passion,  perhaps,  unusually 
strong.  She  longed  definitely  and  deeply  after  mother- 
hood. Her  thinking  upon  this  point  was  no  more  the 
precise  reasoned  thinking  of  a  man  than  on  others;  it 
was  a  brooding  pictorial  feeling  on  the  part  of  a  very 
feminine  type  of  brain.  But  it  colored  all  her  love  for 
Colin,  and  was  not  distinct  from  it. 

In  Jessamine  it  was  not  so  much  that  natural  feeling 
lay  like  a  rich  residuum  beneath  a  cultured  mind,  as 
that  she  was  a  pagan  creature  covered  up  in  artifici- 
ality. In  character  development,  with  all  her  pretty 
cleverness,  she  was  far  behind  the  level  of  her  age. 
She  and  .other  women  like  her  move  in  a  world  for 
them  "not  realized,"  and  beyond  their  understanding 


202  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

in  its  serious  claims.  But  this  fact  does  not  exempt 
them ;  the  serious  claims  are  made  upon  them,  never- 
theless, fair  neglected  children  as  they  are  of  the  cen- 
turies of  moral  training  which  have  never  taken  them 
in  hand. 

None  of  the  girl's  overpowering  emotions  were 
relieved  by  the  consolations  of  intellectuality,  or  the 
dignified  sense  of  a  possibility  of  firm  choice.  Had 
the  life  she  had  condescended  to  in  a  freak  proved  too 
lofty  for  her?  Or  was  she  infected  by  the  element  into 
which  she  had  come,  to  something  lower  than  herself? 

Neither  question  was  she  able  to  decide. 

"Give  yourself  to  Colin !"  cried  the  strong  voice  of 
Nature. 

Jessamine  did  not  discern  whether  this  voice  came 
from  an  angel  or  the  devil.  All  her  thoughts  were 
contradictory.  At  moments  she  found  herself  girding 
about  her  the  armor  of  Aunt  Arabella's  instructions; 
at  others,  whipping  herself  up  to  the  catastrophe 
almost  as  the  virtuous  whip  themselves  up  to  virtue. 
Beaten  thus  between  two  hesitations,  either  way  the 
result  would  be  simply  frailty,  and  not  decision. 

And  out  of  frailty  nothing  of  good  in  this  life  was 
ever  won. 

All  the  next  morning  she  moved  about  silent  and 
distrait.  Mrs.  McKenzie  watched  her,  and  read  her 
with  her  quiet  motherly  eyes.  Trouble  had  come  to 
the  wee  bonnie  lassie,  but  its  nature  she  could  only 
faintly  guess.  Yet,  since  matrimony  is  the  way  of 
bonnie  lassies,  she  ventured  upon  that  subject  at  last, 
her  soft  voice  throwing  around  her  a  region  of  temper- 
ance, safety,  and  peace. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  203 

"  Jeanie  Macbain  will  be  making  up  her  mind  at  last," 
she  ventured  with  cautious  irrelevancy. 

Jessamine  started  at  the  quiet  voice,  and  blushed  at 
it  because  of  its  mild  contrast  with  her  own  tumult. 
The  cup  she  was  washing  slipped  from  her  hand  into 
the  wooden  bowl  with  a  clatter. 

"It  isn't  broken,  Mrs.  McKenzie !"  said  she  peni- 
tently. 

"  I  won't  be  saying  that  I  thought  so,"  persisted  the 
good  woman.  "Jeanie  Macbain  will  be  making  up  her 
mind,  whatever." 

"What  to  do?"  asked  Jessamine  timidly. 

"She  and  Willie  Dallas  will  be  married  soon." 

"Willie  Dallas,  of  Sluggan  Granish?" 

"That  will  be  he." 

"A  very  well-to-do  man,  I  suppose?  I  am  glad  if 
Jeanie  is  happy." 

"Aweel,  I'll  not  be  saying  so  much  about  that.  She 
will  be  ever  very  moderate.  But  it  will  be  a  right 
thing  for  her,  whatever.  Willie  he  was  ever  very  back- 
ward and  melancholious,  and  Jeanie  she  was  laithfu'. 
But  they  are  making  it  up  at  last,  whatever." 

"I  am  glad.     Jeanie  is  not  very  young." 

"She  will  be  getting  on  in  years  indeed.  Many  a 
weary  body  would  ha'  had  her,  but  Jeanie  she  was  ever 
very  back-with-drawing.  And  I  said  to  her  one  day, 
'What  will  you  be  thinking  of  Willie  Dallas  now?' 
And  she  said,  'I'm  thinking  he's  getting  gray.'  And 
I  said,  'Grayer  than  yourself?'  " 

Jessamine  reached  down  a  teacloth  and  began  to 
wipe  the  cups  and  saucers.  The  slop  stone  stood 
under  the  window ;  she  had  been  stooping  over  it  with 


204  A   SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

her  back  toward  Mrs.  McKenzie;  but  she  turned  from 
it  now  and  leaned  against  it,  her  slim  figure  in  the  short 
blue  linsey  gown  defined  against  the  light,  and  her  face 
downcast  and  rosy.  Every  ripple  of  the  matron's 
tones,  as  she  sat  opposite,  knitting  by  the  hearth,  con- 
tained a  gentle  admonition  and  personal  application. 

"Yes,  Mrs.  McKenzie?"  said  the  girl  softly,  seeing 
that  she  paused. 

"It'll  be  best  for  a  wee  bonnie  lassie  to  be  wed. 
Lassies  weary  in  time  of  jinketing  round.  Best  get  a 
gude  mon  while  they  may." 

The  tone  was  firmer  and  more  direct.  Jessamine 
said  nothing,  and  rubbed  carefully  round  the  plate. 

"It  will  ever  be  a  comfort,"  continued  Mrs.  McKen- 
zie, "to  find  a  straight  road.  It  will  be  a  comfort  just 
to  run  right  on  without  a  sight  of  wonder  and  uncer- 
tainty. Whiles  there  will  be  turmoil  in  a  lassie's  mind. 
And  I've  noticed  it  gets  settled  down  when  a  lassie 
buckles  to  with  a  douce  quiet  mon  to  do  for  ancl 
bairnies  aboot.  That  will  be  just  a  woman's  way. 
There  won't  be  so  many  roads  for  a  woman  as  for  a 
man.  It's  aye  a  wise  dispensation,  for  they're  but  ill- 
shaped  for  roving.  Seems  like  the  hearts  in  our 
breastsies  need  harboring  and  resting.  Oh,  indeed ! 
It  was  ever  better  with  me  since  I  took  John.  It 
stilled  a  sight  o'  thinking.  A  douce  quiet  mon  and 
bairnies  aboot  will  be  the  best  thing  for  a  woman, 
whatever." 

Mrs.  McKenzie  ended  her  speech  with  some  sense  of 
surprise  at  the  unwonted  length  of  it. 

"It  is  the  best  thing  for  a  woman?"  repeated  Jessa- 
mine gently  and  slowly. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  205 

Mrs.  McKenzie,  raising  her  mild  glance  for  a  mo- 
ment, was  startled  to  find  the  girl's  eyes  dark  as  with 
a  veil  of  trouble  thrown  over  them,  and  with  a  face 
now  as  wan  as  it  had  been  rosy.  So  inscrutable  and 
deep  an  air  of  misery  had  rarely  met  her  eyes  before. 
She  dropped  her  knitting  and  planted  her  hands  upon 
her  knees  and  leaned  forward,  not  in  excitement,  but 
with  a  large  comfortable  inquiring  air  of  sympathy. 

"What  will  be  ailing  the  lassie?  She  will  be  greet- 
ing the  nicht  through." 

"Nothing  ails  the  lassie,"  repeated  Jessamine  gently, 
a  twisted  smile  tremulously  altering  the  lovely  mouth, 
"nothing — nothing  at  all.  I  am,  I  think,  almost  terri- 
bly well,  Mrs.  McKenzie." 

The  wild,  wan  eyes  rested  hungrily  upon  the  good 
woman's  face. 

"Aweel!"  said  the  latter,  "I'd  not  be  one  to  be  find- 
ing fault  with  the  good  health,  whatever !  It's  a  gift 
of  the  Lord  to  be  thankful  over.  Lassie !" 

"Yes,  Mrs.  McKenzie." 

"You'll  not  be  saying  a  worrud  over  the  sports.  Did 
you  like  them?" 

"Oh,  yes,  very  much.     Oh,  I  liked  them!" 

The  thought  of  Colin  ran  with  a  thrill  through  her 
voice. 

"Colin  Macgillvray  he  went  west  to  the  sports  too," 
said  Mrs.  McKenzie  deliberately  and  with  a  quite 
infecting  calm. 

All  Jessamine's  glowing  thoughts  scampered  like 
startled  wild  things  to  their  lair  when  they  saw  the 
trap  thrown  out  for  them.  The  rustle  of  them  seemed 
to  her  scared  senses  audible. 


206  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"Oh,  he  was  there,  of  course,"  she  responded  hur- 
riedly, "and  Mr.  McKenzie  too.  And — and — there 
was  a  very  good  piper  there,  a  short  man,  who  played 
better  than  anyone." 

"Oh,  indeed!  You'll  not  be  so  very  much  taken 
up  with  the  wee  bit  chappie  with  the  pipes,  I'm 
thinking." 

Jessamine,  trembling  and  frightened,  laid  aside  her 
teacloth,  and  turned  away  to  place  the  cups  and  saucers 
on  the  shelf.  It  was  notable  that  all  the  skilled  society 
fencing  to  which  she  was  accustomed  failed  her  in 
the  wise  controlling  eye  of  this  wholesome  peasant 
woman.  Mrs.  McKenzie's  atmosphere  threw  everyone 
around  her  back  on  simple  virtues. 

"Mrs.  McKenzie,"  faltered  the  girl  presently,  when 
the  last  saucer  had  been  put  by,  "shall  I  not  sprinkle  a 
little  salt  in  the  porridge?" 

"Just  a  thought,  lassie,"  responded  Mrs.  McKenzie, 
"and  you  might  be  getting  the  platters  down." 

Jessamine  reached  up  for  the  wooden  salt-box.  But 
her  fingers  were  trembling  and  awkward,  and  her  eyes 
were  blind.  She  pulled  the  thing  forward  on  the  shelf 
and  let  it  fall,  scattering  the  white  contents  over  the 
floor. 

"Oh,  that  will  be  wanchancy,  lassie !"  cooed  Mrs. 
McKenzie  in  scarcely  a  raised  voice,  and  more  sympa- 
thetic with  Jessamine's  ill  luck  than  sorry  over  her 
own  loss — "very  wanchancy,  whatever." 

"Wanchancy?"  repeated  Jessamine,  staring  at  the 
white  heaps  on  the  ground. 

"Oh,  indeed  yes,  lassie!  Very  wanchancy,  what- 
ever." 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  207 

After  the  midday  dinner  the  rain,  which  had  fallen 
heavily  all  the  morning,  cleared  off  a  little,  leaving  the 
atmosphere  warm  and  damp ;  and  Jessamine  restlessly 
wandered  out  to  the  yard  at  the  back  of  the  house, 
near  which  she  thought  she  heard  John  McKenzie  at 
work.  She  found  him  building  up  a  peat  stack  near 
the  shed,  under  the  shelter  of  the  projecting  roof. 

All  the  summer  at  odd  times  he  had  been  sawing  and 
preparing  wood  to  build  the  shed,  and,  with  the  aid  of 
Colin  and  other  friendly  neighbors,  it  had  gradually 
risen  from  the  ground,  and  now  presented  the  appear- 
ance of  a  tolerable  building.  To-day  he  worked  alone 
at  the  peat  stack,  piecing  the  black  blocks  of  fuel 
securely  together  so  as  to  form  a  convenient  heap,  and 
this  in  the  leisurely  enjoying  manner  of  one  not  con- 
cerned to  take  Time  by  the  forelock,  nor  to  perform 
any  astonishing  feat  of  empty  celerity.  The  acrid 
pleasant  smell  of  the  peats  filled  the  air;  and  Jessa- 
mine, strangely  soothed  and  secure,  as  she  always  felt 
in  either  of  the  McKenzies'  presence,  drew  nearer  and 
nearer,  until  the  man's  busy  glance  took  her  into  it. 
Whereupon  he  welcomed  with  his  usual  pleasant 
glance  the  lovely  presence  \vhich  he  was  now  so  accus- 
tomed to  see  lurking  furtively  about  the  edges  of  his 
daily  labor. 

"Won't  you  sit  down  and  rest  you  a  while?"  said 
he  gently. 

Jessamine  climbed  on  to  a  heap  of  fallen  wood,  and 
perched  herself  on  the  top.  For  a  moment  the  turmoil 
that  filled  her  life  was  stilled.  She  breathed  in  good 
odors,  she  watched  healthy  labor,  she  was  conscious  of 
kindly  companionship,  and,  somewhere  deep  down  in 


208  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

her  nature,  of  the  love  that  gives  richness  and  glow  to 
all  life. 

"We've  had  bad  weather  lately  for  the  harvest, 
haven't  we,  Mr.  McKenzie?"  she  began,  identifying 
herself  as  usual  with  the  interests  of  the  place. 

"Oh,  indeed,  and  it's  very  bad  weather,"  returned 
McKenzie,  with  the  patient  glance  at  the  sky  charac- 
teristic of  the  Highland  farmer. 

"Will  the  corn  be  spoiled?" 

Jessamine  was  anxious,  and  opened  very  grave  eyes 
on  McKenzie's  face. 

"We'll  be  waiting  to  see  that,  whatever.  We've  got 
it  in  the  stocks,  and  we  shall  carry  a  bit  soon." 

"I'm  glad  if  it  is  not  spoiled.  That  peat  is  the  win- 
ter fuel,  I  suppose?" 

"Oh,  yes!  In  the  summer  we  will  be  building  the 
stacks,  and  in  the  wunther  we  will  just  be  burning 
them." 

John  threw  a  pleasant  glance  up  as  he  spoke.  The 
peace,  the  monotony,  the  day-by-day  living  and  labor, 
soothed  her  sense  more  and  more. 

"Where  does  the  peat  come  from?"  said  she. 

"Side  of  Craig  Ellachie,"  said  John. 

"Above  the  fir  woods?  That's  a  long  way  to  go. 
How  do  you  bring  them  down?" 

"Just  with  the  cart  and  the  horse." 

"But  the  road  through  the  deer  forest  is  closed." 

"Whiles  they  close  it,  whiles  they  open  it.  It  will 
be  open  when  we  will  be  casting  the  peats." 

"But  it  is  so  rough — scarcely  a  road  at  all." 

"Oh,  it's  a  very  bad  road,  whatever.  It's  awful  hash- 
ing for  the  horses  and  the  harness." 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  209 

"And  you  have  to  go  so  often  to  get  enough." 

"Avveel,"  said  John,  "a  good  few  times." 

"How  tired  you  must  get  with  the  long  journey  up 
and  down !" 

"Oh,  yes!     A  body  gets  very  tired  and  hot." 

"I  think  the  laird  should  mend  the  road.  It  knocks 
the  horses  to  pieces." 

"It  will  be  very  hashing  to  them.  But  whiles  I'm 
not  so  sorry  to  take  the  roan.  He  was  ever  a  very 
wicked  horse ;  he  will  be  for  rushing,  even  in  the  plow. 
And  it  will  quiet  him  a  bit." 

"But  the  roan  is  a  good  horse.  You  made  some  new 
turnip  drills  in  the  old  hayfield.  'Hadoof,'  you  said, 
'hi,  whisht!'  and  the  roan  turned,  or  stepped  to  one 
side,  or  stopped,  and  was,  I  thought,  very  clever  and 
obedient.  I  wonder  how  you  can  make  the  horses 
understand." 

"Oh,  we  just  teach  them.  They  just  learn  by  de- 
grees, like  the  scholars  in  the  schools.  Whiles  the  roan 
will  be  good  enough.  But  he  was  ever  very  nervous; 
since  he  was  young  he  was  a  nervous  beastie." 

"What  a  long  time  it  takes  to  build  a  peat  stack!" 

"Oh,  I'll  soon  be  through." 

Jessamine  leaned  her  pretty  head  against  the  side  of 
the  shed.  It  was  a  moment  of  ease  and  forgetfulness, 
of  genuine  peace,  and  of  that  unmarked  happiness  of 
which  we  make  too  little,  because  it  is  only  a  level  of 
quiet  thoughts  and  gentle  composed  sensations.  For 
the  time  she  forget  even  Colin  and  her  passion ;  the 
thought  of  them  may  have  sung  a  little  gently  at  the 
bottom  of  her  heart,  but  they  were  merely  an  inter- 
mingling of  color  with  the  hueless  woof  of  pleasant 


210  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

thinking  and  sensation.  John's  very  unconsciousness 
of,  and  his  aloofness  from,  her  personal  turmoil  helped 
her  to  forget  it ;  it  passed  for  the  moment  into  the 
comforting  obscurity  of  things  unconsidered,  the  out- 
door life,  with  its  health  and  large  calm,  soothing  that 
too  intense  feeling  of  the  personal,  and  setting  it  in 
truer  relation  to  the  rest  of  nature — a  relation  which 
few  attain  to  even  in  moments,  and  none  securely  hold 
throughout  a  lifetime. 

Out  of  such  moments,  if  any  activity  arises,  it  will 
be  sweet  and  generous.  Jessamine  felt  a  desire  to  be 
genuinely  useful  to  the  good  and  kindly  folk  among 
whom  so  long  she  had  resided ;  the  sense  that  she  had 
power,  might  have  power  to  help,  was  strong  within 
her,  and  she  found  no  reason  why  she  should  not  use 
it.  She  forgot  on  what  the  power  was  founded  and  its 
accompanying  humiliation — if,  indeed,  she  were  capa- 
ble of  feeling  this  last — and  she  forgot,  too,  her  care- 
fully preserved  disguise.  It  was  with  a  little  grave 
considering  air  that  she  spoke  next. 

"The  land  is  poor,"  said  she,  "and  it  would  be 
better  if  you  had  the  hill  with  the  fir  wood  on  for 
pasture." 

"Oh,  yes!  it  is  a  poor  bit  land,"  said  John  tran- 
quilly, "  and  if  we  got  the  fir  wood  from  the  laird  for 
sheep  pasture,  it  would  be  a  very  good  thing  for  us, 
whatever.  We  could  be  keeping  more  sheep,  and 
helping  ourselves  that  way.  Oh,  it  would  be  a  very 
good  thing  if  we  had  the  deer  forest  again.  Whiles 
there  was  no  deer  forest." 

John,  without  pausing  in  his  work,  glanced  up  at  the 
long  wide  range  of  the  hillsides,  where  the  land,  which 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  211 

might  have  sustained  a  village,  was  covered  up  from 
use  by  the  mantle  of  fir  trees  that  formed  part  of  the 
deer  preserves  for  the  amusement  of  one  person. 
Then  his  glance  fell  again,  and  he  fitted  the  peats 
together  sturdily. 

"  When  I  go  back,"  said  Jessamine  composedly,  "  I 
shall  speak  to  the  laird.  I  shall  ask  him  to  cut  down 
the  fir  woods  and  to  give  the  deer  forest  to  the  people 
for  the  sheep.  And  I  shall  ask  him  to  open  the  old 
road  and  to  mend  it." 

When  John  heard  her  speak  thus,  he  left  off  his  work 
and  stood  still,  leaning  his  arm  over  the  peat  stack,  and 
looking  at  the  morsel  of  humanity  before  him.  She 
proposed,  it  appeared,  in  her  own  small  person,  to 
bring  about  what  was  to  him  and  his  interests  a  sort  of 
millennium  ;  she  proposed  to  do  it  by  the  simple  process 
of  asking  the  laird. 

He  had  not  the  faintest  idea  of  the  commercial  value 
of  that  bit  of  exquisiteness  perched  on  the  heap  of  his 
cut  wood,  her  head  against  his  newly  built  shed.  He 
was  unaware  that  lovely  women  were  bought  and  sold 
in  the  London  marriage  market  very  much  as  Circas- 
sian slaves  are  sold  to  a  Turkish  harem,  nor  could  he 
form  any  notion  of  the  prices  lairds  and  others  might 
be  willing  to  give  for  their  possession — even  for  their 
momentary  favor.  The  genial  twinkle  of  his  face — and 
it  was  always  there  when  this  pretty  whiff  hovered 
about  him — broadened  to  a  forbearing  smile. 

"That'll  be  a  rare  bit  of  work  for  a  wee  bonnie  lassie 
to  undertake,"  said  he.  "But  you'll  not  be  talking  of 
going  back  yet  a  while,  lassie?  We'd  be  after  missing 
you  if  you  did." 


212  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

Jessamine  started.  What  had  she  said?  Go  back ! 
Stay !  What  terrible  meaning  was  locked  in  either 
simple  phrase  to  her!  For  her  what  alternative  was 
there  which  was  not  hemmed  in  by  terror? 

She  darted  a  wan,  frightened  look  at  the  good  quiet 
face  before  her,  and  slipped  down  softly  from  her  seat. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  evening  cleared  up  more  determinedly,  though 
not  with  any  settled  tendency  toward  finer  weather. 
The  moon,  sailing  high  in  the  heavens,  wore  a  beautiful 
watery  halo,  and  was  followed  and  crossed  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  court  of  ever-changing,  chalky,  wraithlike 
clouds,  the  whole  appearance  of  the  sky  being  of  hurry 
and  preparation  for  a  coming  downfall.  Every  now 
and  then  they  dispersed  and  drew  back,  leaving  the 
tranquil  disk,  with  its  colored  ring,  peaceful  and  lonely 
in  a  deeply  colored,  cold,  clear  night,  over  which  again 
presently  that  noiseless  tumult  swept  and  hurried.  In 
the  upturned  leaves  of  the  birch  trees  went  the  sound 
of  a  little  showery  breeze,  and  the  winding  paths 
showed  in  the  silvery  light  as  cold  and  slimy  tracks 
through  the  fields  or  heather,  while  the  sides  of  the 
barns  and  sheds  exhibited  also  the  same  silvery  shining 
wetness. 

It  must  have  been  toward  nine  o'clock  that  the  door 
at  the  back  of  the  McKenzies'  cottage  softly  opened, 
and  Jessamine  slid  cautiously  out  into  the  night. 

She  had  her  rough  gray  skirt  drawn  high  above  her 
slender  ankles,  and  her  gray  plaid  twisted  about  her 
head  and  shoulders;  save  for  the  exquisite  face  lying 
like  a  carved  bit  of  ivory  between  the  folds,  she  might 
have  been  taken  for  any  village  lassie  creeping  out  for 
a  tryst  with  her  lover. 


214  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

Slipping  cautiously  round  the  corner  of  the  house, 
Jessamine  peered  toward  the  kitchen  window,  and  saw 
that  a  faint  ray  of  light  came  from  under  the  door  and 
from  the  chink  in  the  shutter,  and  lay  upon  the  wet 
pools  in  the  yard.  The  McKenzies,  then,  had  not  yet 
retired;  but  the  house  was  closed  up  for  the  night,  and 
there  was  no  chance  of  disturbance.  The  gurgling 
sound  of  water  in  the  ^gutters,  the  dropping  from  the 
eaves,  and  the  cold  swish  of  the  trees  threw  an  inde- 
scribable feeling  of  discomfort  around.  Jessamine 
shivered ;  she  half  drew  back,  went  forward  a  hesitat- 
ing pace  or  two  and  paused,  and  then  ran  desper- 
ately on. 

Her  light  step  was  indistinguishable  amid  the  various 
noises  of  the  night. 

There  was  some  distance  for  her  to  traverse,  and 
once  across  the  road  in  the  safe  loneliness  of  the  fields 
and  open  space,  the  girl  sped  recklessly  onward,  utter- 
ing every  now  and  then  a  sobbing,  incoherent  word  or 
sentence  that  seemed  to  throw  itself  out  of  her  agita- 
tion without  her  will  and  purpose.  For  whither  were 
her  hurrying  steps  bent?  They  carried  her  not  over 
the  heather  merely.  Her  spirit,  as  a  skiff  broken  from 
the  anchor,  leaped  and  bounded  forward  on  uncharted 
seas,  scudding  before  the  winds  and  at  their  mercy. 
Each  beat  of  her  foot  upon  the  ground  thrust  the 
familiar  world  behind  her;  the  new,  the  irrevocable, 
the  wild  adventure  lay  before!  An  intoxicated  sense 
of  loose  moorings,  an  exaltation  of  the  mind  at  her 
own  daring,  the  thousand  vivid  allurements  of  the  mo. 
ment,  sped  whirling  through  her  brain.  In  one  spot 
a  complacent  whisper  hummed,  an  assurance  that  the 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  215 

future  still  lay  in  the  future  and  the  possibility  of 
safety  was  not  yet  snatched  from  her;  that  the  seduct- 
ive could  be  dallied  with,  yet  find  her  adamant  in  the 
last  resort.  Another  corner  concealed  a  reckless  thing, 
which  told  itself  that  the  cup  was  there,  and  that  the 
lips  should  drink  it  every  drop,  nor  pause  till  it  was 
drained  ;  and  just  there  it  was  that  the  wild  fiery  throb 
kept  burning  and  stabbing  and  thrilling  her  through 
and  through. 

Somewhere  on  the  edges  of  all  was  a  whisper,  cold 
and  gray  as  the  dim  shade  that  uttered  it ;  this  mur- 
mured of  the  consequence,  and  muttered  warning. 
But  who  listens  to  a  thing  dreary  and  chill?  That  was 
the  place  of  the  anchor  and  the  mooring  from  which 
she  bounded  away,  and  behind  it  was  an  old  world  in 
collapse,  with  faint  thunders  of  falling  cities  growing 
less  and  less  in  her  ears. 

"I  care  for  nothing!  I  care  for  nothing!"  Some 
strange  voice  floated  that  out  on  the  air,  and  suddenly 
she  stood  still.  She  looked  up ;  the  greatness  of  the 
night,  and  the  streaming  rack  with  the  moonlight  leap- 
ing upon  it,  arrested  her.  With  it  some  answering 
greatness,  some  womanly  foreboding,  rose  within.  She 
stared  up  to  the  sky,  clenching  her  hands.  But  her 
eyes  and  cheeks  were  wet  as  the  night  itself.  Again 
she  sought  wildly  over  the  heavens,  and  again 
nothing  like  prayer  would  come — nothing  save  that 
sick  revolt  against  the  purposeless  convention  which 
was  all  the  goodness  she  had  ever  learned.  She 
raised  the  clenched  hands  upward  and  cried  out 
again : 

"I  care  for  nothing!     I  care  for  nothing!     There  is 


2i6  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAtf. 

no  meaning  anywhere — save  this.  What  was  I  born 
for,  if  this  is  wrong?" 

Out  on  the  air  rose  her  cry,  and,  shrinking  from  the 
silence  that  followed,  with  renewed  recklessness  she 
darted  on. 

Macgillvray's  land  being  reached,  she  walked  more 
composedly,  casting  as  she  went  searching,  fearful 
glances  about  the  bushes,  and  this  because  she  became 
suddenly  seized  by  an  unreasoning  fear  that  old  Rorie 
would  start  out  from  them  and  claim  her  with  his  ter- 
rible courteous  welcome.  The  barns — the  new  sub- 
stantial buildings,  so  much  handsomer  than  the  cottage 
of  their  owner — were  presently  to  be  discerned,  their 
slated  roofs  shining  in  the  mingled  wet  and  moonlight. 
By  night  they  seemed  larger  than  in  the  daytime,  and 
the  little  path  was  swallowed  up  in  their  shadow.  She 
paused  confusedly,  wondering  which  way  to  turn  in 
order  to  reach  the  door  in  the  front,  and  as  she  paused 
she  inconsequently  blamed  Colin  that  she  was  thus  left 
to  hesitation  and  permitted  to  wait  alone. 

The  next  moment,  just  as  inconsequently,  she  shrank 
at  his  presumption,  because  she  found  herself  encircled 
by  his  arms. 

"I  was  waiting  for  you,  lassie  mine,  for  a  whole  long 
hour,"  came  the  warm,  rich  voice  through  the  chill 
night  air.  "Many  a  weary  time  have  I  stepped  over 
the  bit  field  to  the  road,  and  looked  and  waited.  There 
will  be  a  hunger  in  my  heart  indeed,  for  it  will  be  a 
night  and  a  day  since  I  was  seeing  you.  And  your 
promise  made  the  time  seem  longer." 

Jessamine  sank  against  his  breast,  suddenly  still ;  she 
heard  over  and  over  again  the  echoes  of  his  voice. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  217 

Everything  was  done,  then?  There  was  no  more  any 
struggle  left,  neither  decision  nor  hesitation,  but  mere 
drifting  and  helplessness.  The  thunders,  and  voices, 
and  hurry  in  her  mind  were  at  an  end.  Silence  came 
with  his  touch.  She  slightly  shivered. 

"Take  me  to  the  barn,"  she  murmured. 

In  a  moment  he  had  lifted  her  in  his  arms  like  a 
child. 

"It'll  be  wet  for  your  wee  bit  feet,  lassie.  And  oh, 
my  lo'e,  I  canna  draw  thee  close  enough." 

She  clung  about  his  neck  stiller  than  ever.  Thought, 
anxiety,  terror,  were  annihilated.  There  was  nothing 
left  in  all  the  world  but  this.  The  moment !  the  mo- 
ment ! — that  was  all.  No  peace  was  ever  more  com- 
plete. 

"A  nicht  and  a  day,"  he  murmured,  with  his  lips 
against  her  cheek  as  he  walked. 

"Only  so  long?"  the  sweet  mouth  breathed  back  in 
the  lowest  whisper — so  low  a  whisper  that  the  words 
seemed  to  slide  from  her  tongue  to  his  ear  without  the 
medium  of  sound,  and  with  no  more  will  than  is  thrown 
into  a  sigh. 

"And  long  enough,  my  do'e,  my  wife." 

"Only  so  long,"  stole  the  tiny  musical  murmur  again. 
"I  thought  it  was  a  week — a  month." 

The  phrase  uttered,  her  eyes  closed  softly.  Was 
ever  love-making  sweet  as  this?  He  strained  her  to 
his  heart  with  such  an  upleap  of  wonder  and  of  thank- 
fulness that  utterance  overflowed  into  silence  and  was 
lost. 

Treading  gently,  strongly,  and  slowly,  so  that  the 
tender  moment  might  not  be  overpassed  too  soon,  he 


2l8  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

brought  her  silently  at  last  within  the  shelter  of  the 
barn. 

"Set  me  down,"  she  whispered,  when  she  felt  the  dry 
rafters  over  her  and  the  warm  air  about  her. 

In  her  heart  was  no  other  feeling  than  that  of  a  help- 
less sliding,  strange,  delicious,  fatal — and  full,  full  of 
that  peace. 

There  was  a  homely  smell  of  hay  and  seed — a  mild 
agricultural  odor — and  from  somewhere  beyond  a  par- 
tition came  the  soft,  wholesome  breathing  of  cows. 

Instead  of  obeying  her,  Colin  seated  himself  upon  an 
upturned  wooden  box  which  he  had  prepared  for  the 
purpose,  and  drew  her  to  his  knee.  A  single  lantern 
swung  from  the  roof,  sending  a  meager  though  steady 
light,  which  disclosed  the  middle  part  of  the  barn  floor 
carefully  cleared  and  brushed  by  Colin;  in  the  center 
was  the  improvised  seat,  with  a  rug  thrown  upon  it ; 
some  gleamings  from  polished  metal  showed  the  har- 
ness hanging  in  the  dark  corners,  into  which  also 
various  simple  agricultural  implements  were  pushed ; 
and  the  sides  of  the  barn  were  decorated  with  scythes, 
hay  forks,  bunches  of  herbs,  and  repositories  for  seed 
stock,  save  one  side,  which  was  a  bare  partition  with 
apertures,  whence  came  the  quiet  rustle  and  the  warm 
breaths  of  cattle.  Above  all,  the  lantern's  steady  ray 
illumined  the  group  in  the  center — the  woman  lying 
still  as  death  in  the  arms  of  the  man,  her  face  with 
closed  eyes  against  his  breast,  while  his  head  leaned 
down  to  touch  hers. 

For  full  quarter  of  an  hour,  speechless  and  motion- 
less, the  two  remained  locked  in  an  emotion  apparently 
as  simple,  primitive,  and  undivided,  as  though  Time 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN'.  2ig 

had  run  back  for  them  and  borne  them  to  the  age  of 
Paradise. 

In  truth,  Jessamine  was  in  a  half-fainting  condition, 
will  and  thought  obliterated  in  the  strong  reaction 
after  struggle,  of  which,  indeed,  the  sole  survival 
was  a  faint  surmise — a  surmise  indefinitely  circled 
by  that  peace  of  acquiescence.  She  lay  with  her 
face,  like  a  bit  of  exquisite  carved  ivory,  against  his 
rough  coat,  her  long  black  lashes  resting  on  her 
cheeks. 

Colin's  face,  with  its  deep  conscious  life,  presented 
to  hers  as  strong  a  contrast  as  it  is  possible  to  conceive. 
He  had  spent  the  interval  between  the  last  meeting 
and  this  in  a  way  of  his  own,  and  the  mark  of  it  re- 
mained with  him.  He  leaned  above  that  half-fainting, 
acquiescent  feminine  frailty  upon  his  breast  with  a  look 
of  reverence,  the  impassioned  tenderness  of  his  eyes 
undivorced  from  the  strong  quiet  curve  of  the  re- 
strained lips  and  delicately  harmonizing  with  that,  and 
the  thrill  of  his  arms  over  their  burden  subordinated  to 
the  slow,  massive,  and  accumulated  power  of  his  will 
and  conscience.  Thus,  within  this  seemingly  mutual 
trance  of  emotion,  difference  was  already  at  its  work, 
the  woman  slipping  darkly  and  helplessly  toward  some 
moral  abyss,  and  he  with  his  will  anchored,  as  it  were, 
to  the  stars. 

The  stirring  of  a  heifer  beyond  the  wooden  wall,  and 
a  sudden  prolonged  and  plaintive  low,  aroused  the  pair 
from  their  impassioned  stillness,  and  set  the  tongue  to 
its  restless  work  of  speech. 

Colin  had  his  thoughts  to  impart,  and  these  had  been 
lashed  to  unwonted  speed  by  the  sweet  confession 


220  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

which  had  fallen  from  Jessamine  in  the  moment  that 
he  raised  her  in  his  arms. 

"Lassie  mine!"  he  murmured  at  last. 

The  lids  at  which  he  looked  longingly  and  reverently 
raised  themselves  suddenly  to  a  wide-open  gaze  of  sus- 
pense that  startled  him.  He  looked  into  them  until 
his  heart  almost  swooned  with  bliss  and  pain. 

"We  need  not  be  waiting  long,  my  do'e,"  he  whis- 
pered— "not  long." 

His  utterance  was  slow,  unwilling,  and  bare,  because 
of  the  mighty  restrained  emotion  behind. 

The  dark  unfathomable  eyes  stared  at  him,  the  very 
breath  suspended,  and  the  heart  almost  ceasing  to 
beat. 

What  could  he  say  more?  Where  seek  for  and  hit 
upon  true  expression  among  so  much?  He  failed  to 
discover  fitting  words  at  all. 

"I'll  be  after  knocking  up  the  wee  bit  chamber  for 
you,"  he  murmured ;  "there's  nothing  money  will  buy 
but  I'll  get  it  for  you,  lassie!"  he  continued,  impluses 
of  extravagance  shooting  across  his  canny  Scotch  thrift- 
fulness. 

At  this  she  made  a  movement.  She  laid  her  hand 
on  his  coat,  and  pulled  herself  to  a  more  upright  posi- 
tion— still  with  that  wild  suspended  gaze.  It  shook 
more  words  from  him. 

"You'll  be  telling  John  McKenzie,  my  own  sweet 
lo'e?"  he  said.  "And  we'll  be  looking  for  the  wedding 
bells  before  the  month  is  out.  Thank  God,"  he  added 
in  an  eager  whisper,  "I'm  a  solid  man,  and  there's 
naething  need  keep  us  twain  waiting  and  apart.  I'll 
fix  it  up,  Jessie,  this  month.  We'll  go  straight  on,  my 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  221 

lassie,  like  the  lightning.  Love,  "  said  he,  "  canna  be 
waiting  too  long — too  long." 

But  to  this  he  earned  no  response.  Had  all  the  love 
been  breathed  out  in  that  one  sweet  whisper,  whose 
echoes  still  stirred  live  and  warm  in  his  heart? 

She  sat  straight  up  now,  looking  into  his  face — his 
face  all  tremulous  with  tenderness  and  reverent  devo- 
tion— and  she  placed  one  hand  on  his  shoulder,  while 
the  other  lay  limp  in  her  lap. 

"You'll  not  be  saying  me  nay,"  he  pleaded.  "Lassie, 
I  canna  wait.  My  heart's  pulled  in  two  with  loving 
when  I'm  my  lane.  I  canna  be  my  lane,  sweet  Jessie, 
any  more.  I'm  needing  you  snug  in  my  life,  and  no 
more  good-bys  nor  good-morrows.  I  will  never  be 
knowing  what  love  was  before.  It  is,"  said  he,  trembling 
a  little,  and  looking  away  from  her  and  up  to  the  rafters 
where  a  dove  or  two  sat,  "a  great — great  matter." 

Whereupon,  at  that,  suddenly  she  slid  from  his  knee, 
and  stood  upright  on  the  floor  beside  him.  He  rose 
too,  and  came  close  to  her,  and,  impatient  of  distance, 
drew  her  again  unresistingly  within  his  arms.  She 
leaned  against  him,  but  still  she  did  not  speak. 

"I  cannot  fetch  it  into  my  mind,"  he  continued, 
"that  I'm  deserving  of  this  great  gift,  whatever.  But 
I'm  thanking  the  Lord  indeed.  Seems  like  the  fiery 
chariot  of  Elijah  that  went  by." 

He  looked  away  from  her  again,  and  raised  his  hand, 
moving  it  gently  in  the  air,  and  seemed  bereft  of  fur- 
ther speech  in  wonder. 

"Colin!" 

The  tone  was  scarcely  natural.  It  was  thin  as  well 
as  low. 


222  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"Oh,  my  wee  do'e !  What  your  voice  is  to  me,"  he 
murmured,  overjoyed  at  hearing  it ;  "tell  me  you'll  be 
saying  'Yes'  to  your  own  man.  Tell  me  you'll  be  com- 
ing to  me — drawing  into  my  wee  bit  housie  like  the 
sunshine  that  you  are ;  that  you'll  be  resting  there,  and 
making  it  summer,  wunther,  and  all." 

"Colin!" 

"My  lassie?" 

"Don't — don't  say  that !  Not  that  about  the  chariot 
of  fire." 

"Why  not,  lassie  mine?  I'm  fair  whirled  away  into 
a  heaven  of  my  own — caught  up  and  carried.  I'm 
lifted  up  from  earth." 

"Oh,  no,  Colin — oh,  no!     Not  that — not  that." 

The  voice  wailed,  with  helpless  tears  in  it.  The 
engrossed  tenderness  of  Colin's  face  changed  a  little 
to  surprise. 

"I'll  not  be  saying  ae  thing  that  my  lassie  will  not 
be  liking,"  said  he  briefly. 

"I  don't  like  it !"  gasped  Jessamine,  with  her  hand 
against  her  throat;  "it — it — frightens  me." 

"It  will  just  be  what  I  was  feeling.  But  I'll  be  say- 
ing  it  no  more." 

The  girl  stood  clutching  the  lapel  of  his  coat,  and 
staring  at  him  speechlessly.  The  echoes  of  his  silver 
tongue  pierced  her  ear  and  touched  her  heart ;  his  face 
and  his  eyes  overcame  her.  But  all  around  and  about 
this  fair  image  of  manly  love  beat  chaotic  miseries,  and 
the  religious  fervor  of  his  wooing  and  his  simple  con- 
scientious aims  drove  her  cruelly  back  upon  them,  and 
divided  him  and  her,  and  froze  up  that  acquiescent 
glow  within  her  heart  of  hearts  into  a  nipping  grief. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  223 

What  was  the  simple  natural  issue  to  him  was  just  the 
clear  impossible  to  her. 

Not  yet  could  she  fathom  or  dare  to.  realize  the  abyss 
between  them.  But  the  feeling  of  it  crept  near  already, 
cold  and  cruel  as  death. 

"Colin,"  she  began  again,  her  voice  hoarse  with  a 
fear  beyond  words. 

"Jessie?"  he  responded. 

And  then  he  looked  at  her  gravely,  with  more  atten- 
tive interest  and  scrutiny — a  scrutiny  which  was  not  so 
much  blinded  by  his  own  emotion  as  before. 

The  terror  and  entreaty  in  her  eyes  began  forthwith 
to  become  apparent  to  him.  His  head  leaned  forward 
a  little,  and  his  puzzled  look  gazed  into  them. 

As  for  those  eyes  of  hers,  they  searched  everywhere 
over  his  face  and  over  his  whole  nature  in  a  wild  and 
desperate  appeal.  Just  such  an  appeal  had  she  made 
to  the  dumb  mythologies  of  all  times — just  such  an 
entreaty  against  the  laws  of  life  and  fate  that  crushed 
and  threatened  her. 

Her  own  feeling  became  darker  to  herself  and  more 
overwhelming ;  the  intoxication  was  over ;  each  thought 
was  an  abyss,  each  breath  a  slip  downward.  She 
shrank  in  ignorant  terror  from  herself  and  in  shocked 
amazement  from  her  remembered  thoughts ;  but  more 
than  all  she  shrank  from  the  religious  fervor  of  his 
wooing,  from  the  austere  tenderness  which  made  so 
terrible  a  claim  upon  her,  and  up  to  the  level  of  which 
she  knew  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  rise.  How 
should  he  see  that  every  word  conjured  up  images  of 
distaste  and  unbearable  hardness — that  behind  the  face 
and  eyes  to  which  her  gaze  might  have  clung  Avith 


224  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

supreme  and  satisfied  love  hovered  to  her  mind  an 
austerity  that  terrified?  All  the  best  gifts  he  had  to 
offer  seemed  to  her  half-swooning  heart  as  fetters  and 
a  dungeon.  Her  love  had  the  quality  of  self-abandon- 
ment, but  could  not  rise  to  sacrifice.  Shame  she  would 
have  accepted,  but  noble  endurance  was,  as  yet,  be- 
yond her. 

So  the  pair  of  human  souls,  chained  together  solely 
by  passion,  divided  by  everything  that  remained,  gazed 
into  each  other's  eyes,  silent  because  the  darkness  and 
the  separation  were  invincible.  Yet  some  reflection 
from  the  terrified  phantoms  that  stole  up  and  down 
the  edges  of  Jessamine's  mind,  and  did  duty  for  think- 
ing, crept  into  the  mirror  of  her  eyes,  and  suddenly 
into  the  midst  of  them  Colin's  quick  words  were  inter- 
polated. 

"I  mean  fair  by  you,  lassie!"  he  cried. 

The  tone  was  anxious,  hurried — even  businesslike. 
Before  it  the  sick  heart  of  the  girl  swooned  afresh  as 
with  a  wound. 

The  contract — the  contract !  How  should  the  hon- 
est, fair-dealing  man  dream  that  the  terms  of  the  bar- 
gain are  not  forever  the  main  thing  in  the  heart  of  the 
impassioned  woman? 

To  his  quick,  short  sentences  she  offered  no  reply 
save  a  gasp.  She  continued  to  stare  up  in  his  face  as  a 
dumb  child  might  to  a  mistaken  parent,  as  a  lamb  to 
the  slaughterer,  as  human  nature  to  an  irresponsive 
God.  The  silent  searching  fear  of  her  face,  the  des- 
peration of  her  mute  appeal,  moved  the  man  beyond 
expression.  It  drove  him  from  love-making  to  assever- 
ation. A  spirit  as  of  the  ancient  Covenanters  wak- 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  225 

ened  in  him— a  remorseless,  puritanic,  self-sacrificing 
austerity. 

"Woman!"  cried  he  sternly,  "as  I  live  I'm  meaning 
fair  by  you." 

Whereat,  hearing  the  sternness  of  his  voice,  her  own 
wild  daring  tender  love  fled,  and  sank  away  somewhere 
out  of  sight,  abashed  and  horrified.  The  rose  in  her 
heart  froze  in  a  moment.  The  man — her  own  lover — 
had  detected  it,  perhaps,  seen  it — and  reproached  her  ! 
She  was  wrong  then — bad  in  his  eyes. 

Ah,  there  was  something  more  awful  than  Society's 
tongue-wagging! 

For  Love's  sake,  leaping  in  her  own  experience  over 
some  abyss — the  nature  of  which  she  but  faintly  com- 
prehended— she  had  alighted  at  the  bottom  only  to 
meet  with  the  furies  of  disdain. 

Chaotic  sounds  rang  in  her  head  and  ears.  She 
uttered  a  broken  cry,  and  threw  herself  upon  his  breast, 
grasping  his  coat  with  her  hands,  and  sobbing  in  an 
emotion  as  incomprehensible  to  him  as  it  appeared  to 
be  inconsolable.  No  penitent  but  disgraced  wife  could 
have  felt  an  anguish  more  acute  than  did  Jessamine  as 
she  lay  there.  Colin  held  her  firmly,  quietly,  con- 
cerned now,  chiefly,  in  the  beneficent  habit  which  he 
extended  to  every  living  thing,  to  still  and  soothe  this 
emotion  away.  When  he  believed  it  to  be  subsiding, 
his  own  tenderness  broke  out  again  in  the  only  speech 
that  he  knew  of  which  might  be  likely  to  touch  and 
heal  this  fear,  and  draw  her  again  within  a  circle  of 
reassurance. 

"Why  do  you  greet,  lass?"  he  murmured  with  un- 
utterable gentleness;  "why  will  you  not  be  speaking? 


226  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

You  understand  me,  Jessie,  bonnie  bird?  You  will  be 
trusting  me,  your  Colin?  I  mean  fair  by  you — honest 
as  a  man  can  mean.  What  do  you  fear,  my  lo'e — my 
do'e?  Wee,  wee  wife  of  mine!" 

He  spoke  with  difficulty,  his  bronzed  strong  throat 
quivering  with  tenderness  and  sympathy,  and  his  heart 
heaving  with  the  great  faithful  tumult  of  his  passion. 
He  passed  his  hand  over  and  over  her  dark  hair  in 
curious  worshipful  delight,  and  his  thinking  was  a  single 
unmingled  vow  of  devotion,  protection,  and  plighted 
troth.  It  was  the  highest  he  could  conceive  of  love's 
surrender — for  Colin,  too,  had  prized  his  freedom — and 
he  held  it  a  cheap  price  indeed. 

She  kissed  his  muscular  sunburned  hand  every  time 
it  neared  her  lips,  and — shuddered  at  his  words. 

That  shudder  he  felt,  and  he  marveled  the  more. 
His  slow  mind,  quickened  by  love,  moved  from  all  its 
well-anchored  points,  and  sought  far  and  wide  over  all 
his  knowledge  and  experience  for  some  solution  to  the 
trouble  that  shook  her,  and  his  tongue  gathered  up 
into  unwonted  words  the  tender  distresses  of  his  heart. 

"Jessie,  my  lass,"  said  he  in  a  firmer,  graver  tone, 
through  which  ran  a  hint  of  reproach,  "you  must  be 
leaning  on  me,  trusting  me.  Colin,"  he  added,  "would 
never  shame  you." 

Whereat  the  slight  figure  trembled  like  a  leaf,  and 
the  head  drooped  like  a  withered  flower.  She  had 
abandoned  herself  and  all  her  preconceived  ideas  to 
meet  with  blank  rejection. 

"Gude  save  us !"  cried  the  man  in  intense  agitation ; 
"I  will  be  always  holding  you  high.  You  will  never 
need  be  fearing,  nor  flying  off,  nor  trembling  like  a 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  227 

shy,  frightened  bird.  The  angels  above '  His 

voice  choked  and  broke.  "It  will  be  like  that  I  am 
thinking  of  you,  Jessie.  My  wife — my  wife  /" 

Words  could  not  express  his  uttermost  devotion  and 
reverence ;  speech  altogether  failed  him.  He  lifted  his 
hand  and  his  eyes  helplessly  to  the  rafters,  where  the 
white  gleam  of  the  sleeping  doves  arrested  him  with  a 
sense  of  harmony  that  answered  for  him. 

But  then  the  half-swooning  girl,  lashed  by  his  words 
as  by  scorpions,  terrified,  ignorant,  withered  by  shame, 
her  very  passion  flying  from  her  like  a  wild  strayed 
thing  from  some  immeasurable  prairie  land  of  freedom 
back  whence  it  came,  slipped  from  his  arms,  and 
tumbled  suddenly  to  the  ground  at  his  feet,  and  lay 
before  him  in  an  abashed  heap  of  tingling  dismay. 

Colin,  startled  beyond  expression,  his  Scotch  slow- 
ness and  undemonstrativeness  hampering  him  in  the 
one  brief  second  that  was  left,  drew  back  a  step  before 
he  stooped  to  raise  his  fallen  burden.  Did  he  for  the 
first  time  apprehend  something  foreign,  incompatible, 
strange? 

Into  that  second  of  time  rushed  all  the  dividing 
legions  that  come  between  human  souls. 

When  he  stooped  toward  it,  the  form  which  had  lain 
like  a  dead  thing  leaped  to  its  feet  ere  he  had  touched 
it,  and  darted  from  him  to  the  half-open  door,  and 
thence  out  into  the  night. 

Colin,  like  a  man  amazed,  hesitated  for  another  brief 
second,  and  then  rushed  to  the  entrance,  sending  his 
voice  after  her  in  a  mighty  cry  of  tender  entreaty. 

But  the  night  itself  was  cruel.  Strangling  clouds 
hung  over  the  moon,  and  in  the  north  the  hurrying 


228  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

rack  had  sullenly  coalesced,  and  from  thence,  blown  by 
the  risen  wind,  a  blinding  furious  shower  came  and 
beat  across  his  eyes. 

He  stood  peering  and  calling,  and  waving  his  arms 
like  one  distraught.  Then  he  plunged  over  the  heather 
in  a  direction  different  from  the  one  her  winged  feet 
had  taken.  And  at  length,  struck  by  a  sudden  faint- 
ness  of  despair,  he  fell  face  downward  on  the  soaking 
ground  of  his  own  field. 

Like  a  wraith  she  had  vanished  from  his  life. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

TEN  years  had  passed  away. 

The  beautiful  month  of  May  was  in  its  zenith,  and 
the  parks  of  London  were  gay  with  flowers;  jonquils 
and  tulips  were  being  sold  in  the  streets,  and  the  shop 
windows  of  the  great  thoroughfares  vied  with  each 
other  in  the  display  of  feminine  fashions  for  spring 
attire  and  the  other  knickknacks  of  tortured  ingenuity 
which  the  hand  of  competition  throws  out  to  catch  the 
eye  of  extravagance. 

The  main  business  of  the  hour  was  so  to  organize 
the  interplay  between  permanent  greed  or  neediness 
and  chance  spendthrift  desires  that  the  fickle  stream 
of  the  latter  might  be  caught  and  utilized,  as  by  a  mill- 
wheel,  before  it  dashed  onward  on  its  aimless  play. 

It  was  May,  and  it  was  night.  "Everybody"  was  in 
town ;  not  to  be  in  town  argued  one,  in  fashionable 
circles,  as  a  country  cousin  and  an  ineffectual  nonentity. 
In  the  West  End  the  atmosphere  was  charged  with 
social  and  political  intrigue,  with  intellectual  strain, 
with  all  the  pressure  and  confusion  of  a  great  world 
bent  on  struggling  onward  in  pursuit  of  its  own  glitter- 
ing, noisy  aims. 

The  streets  and  squares  were  beautiful  with  their 
regular  setting  of  the  topazlike  gas  lamps  or  the  im- 
prisoned moons  of  electric  light ;  with  the  moving 
stabs  of  color  in  passing  trams  and  other  vehicles; 


23°  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

with  the  suspended  glows  at  tavern  or  theater  doors, 
in  chemists'  shops,  night-abandoned  road  mending,  or 
other  opportunities  and  tricks  of  illumination. 

Fashion  was,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  theaters  or 
concert  halls,  or  in  the  great  drawing  rooms  of  favored 
houses,  or  at  least  on  its  way  to  them  within  the  safe 
protection  of  closed  carriages,  glimpses  of  the  bril- 
liantly dressed,  glittering,  presumably  happy  persons 
flashing  out  through  the  windows  as  they  rolled  by. 
The  footpaths  of  the  street  were  left,  for  the  most 
part,  to  passengers  of  another  kind.  And  in  the  laby- 
rinthlike  quarters  that  lie  huddled  and  clustering  be- 
hind and  near  the  great  thoroughfares  outstreamed 
permanent  London  to  its  street  chaffering,  its  leisured 
hour,  its  genial  gossip,  its  despair,  conspiracy,  or 
crime. 

It  was  an  hour  when  the  great  city  in  all  its  parts  is 
more  restlessly  awake,  and  in  some  more  evilly  active, 
than  at  any  other  time — an  hour  for  the  lover  of  the 
sensation  of  things  to  be  out  and  moving,  feeling  be- 
neath his  feet  the  "pavement  of  a  great  city,"  or  realiz- 
ing from  the  top  of  a  tram  car  the  stir  and  pulsation 
and  intoxicating  sense  of  a  tumultuous  life  and  fateful 
destiny. 

Being  night,  it  was  also  the  time  when  those  whose 
hearts  and  brains  are  impressed  by  the  deep  and  tragical 
reality  of  suffering  existence  which  underlies  the  noisy 
and  ambitious  struggle  above,  become  in  their  con- 
sciousness clearer  as  to  the  causes  of  things;  more 
convinced  as  to  the  distinction  between  shadow  and 
substance  ;  more  acutely  discriminative  between  the 
barrenness  of  party  aims  and  the  import  of  those  anx- 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  231 

ious  demands  which  knock  periodically  and  constantly 
at  the  doors  of  the  nation,  the  hunger  of  starved  souls 
and  bodies  in  their  ominous  reiteration. 

Invincible  faith  rather  than  despair  is  the  characteris- 
tic of  onlookers  and  thinkers  such  as  these,  the  heart 
of  patience  and  hope  being  retained  amid  the  central 
glow  of  pity  and  indignation  which  keeps  their  energy 
in  the  cause  of  the  people  at  a  white  heat.  To  them 
the  suffering  outcry,  or  the  more  piteous  dumb  appeal 
of  the  oppressed,  contain  within  themselves  their  own 
irrefutable  reply.  The  unanswerable  demonstration  of 
any  evil  endured  by  the  inmate  of  a  civilized  state  is  a 
matter  which  may  wait  long,  but  which  draws  its  con- 
clusion inevitably  after  it.  Not  the  brilliant  talent  or 
the  particular  gift,  but  the  ascertained  need  of  the 
weakest  and  most  broken  of  the  children  of  Fate,  is 
the  fulcrum  which  determines  how  and  in  what  direc- 
tion the  national  will  shall  move;  and  the  leaving  be- 
hind or  the  dropping  out  from  social  advantages  and 
modern  ease  of  many — of  some,  of  even  a  few — is  the 
signal  for  the  readjustment  of  national  contrivances 
until  these  laggards  in  the  race  be  drawn  up  abreast 
with  average  progress,  and  be  reinstated  in  that  place 
in  the  world  to  which  chronologically  they  are  born. 
For  within  the  average  mass  lies  the  strength  and  fate 
of  the  nation,  and  the  exceptional  success  of  advanced 
skirmishers  toward  progress  is  immaterial  unless  it  be 
utilized  in  bearing  forward  that  desolated  and  mourn- 
ful fringe  which  drags  down  the  average  by  existing 
beneath  it  in  the  evil  social  conditions  of  fifty  or  a 
hundred  years  ago. 

On  such  a  May  night  a  great  minister  gave  a  great 


232  A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN. 

entertainment,  and  everybody  who  was  anybody  was 
there.  It  was  a  pure  and  beautiful  evening,  starlight 
and  mild,  and  the  coachmen,  driving  up  their  precious 
freight  to  the  handsome  house  in  the  handsome  square, 
blessed  themselves  in  that  they  had  not  to  sit  there 
under  a  blinding  rain  or  soaking  fog.  The  stream  of 
carriages  was  long  and  imposing;  it  obstructed  the 
road  for  some  distance  beyond  the  square,  but  the 
cause  was  respectable  and  out  of  the  arm  of  the  law. 
So  one  by  one,  and  inch  by  inch,  they  crept  along 
until,  after  patience  and  maneuvering,  aided  by  the 
dexterity  of  the  police,  each  one  deposited  its  burden 
beneath  an  awning  amid  the  breathless  and  solemn 
silence  of  an  awestruck  crowd,  who  watched  the  guests 
advance  up  the  crimson-laid  steps  and  vanish  into  the 
brilliant  hall  above. 

This  silence  and  awe  produced  an  effect  as  of  a  reli- 
gious ceremony,  which  touched  the  imagination  of  a 
sharp-faced  street  child  of  some  education. 

"Oh,  my!"  came  the  shrill  little  voice  through  the 
sweet  night  air;  "it's  just  like  the  C'lestial  City,  and 
the  pilgrums,  and  the  haingels  wot  took  them  in  at  the 
gaites — wot  teacher  told  me  on  !" 

A  burly  policeman,  with  some  sense  of  incongruity 
in  the  allusion,  and  feeling  that  it  might  be  distasteful 
to  parties  concerned,  here  took  the  prattling  little  one 
by  the  ear  and  led  it  gesticulating  away. 

At  that  moment  a  hansom  crept  up — a  common, 
vulgar  hansom  in  the  middle  of  the  coroneted  car- 
riages!— and  out  of  it  popped  a  small  shriveled,  de- 
formed gentleman,  with  an  ugly  wedgelike  face  and 
great  burning  eyes.  He  ran  up  the  steps,  looking  as 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  233 

he  did  so  like  a  curious  beetle,  and  the  crowd  burst 
out  into  a  hearty,  irrepressible  laugh. 

An  agreeable  sense  of  pleasure  suffused  itself  over 
the  heart  of  the  little  gentleman  at  finding  himself  the 
innocent  occasion  of  momentary  mirth  among  the 
poverty-stricken  gathering  outside. 

Mr.  Carteret,  when  he  found  himself  well  within  his 
sumptuous  surroundings,  committed  at  least  three 
solecisms  in  tranquil  unconsciousness  before  he  reached 
the  opening  chamber  of  a  splendid  suite  of  reception 
rooms.  Near  the  entrance  to  this  first  apartment  stood 
the  host  and  hostess,  receiving  with  mechanical  cordi- 
ality the  constant  stream  of  arrivals  who  advanced, 
exchanged  a  few  words  of  greeting,  and  were  then 
carried  onward  by  the  press  into  the  apartments 
beyond. 

Carteret,  as  surprised  to  find  himself  present  as 
others  were  to  see  him,  as  whimsically  conscious  of 
incongruity  in  his  person  as  any  observer  could  be,  fol- 
lowed the  loud  herald  of  his  own  name  into  the  daz- 
zling scene,  and  confronted  his  hostess  with  a  short 
bow  and  swift,  sarcastic,  silent  smile.  The  high-born 
lady  extended  the  momentary  patronage  of  her  grace- 
ful recognition  to  the  man  of  genius;  his  host  said  a 
few  apt  and  cordial  words;  and  Carteret — singular  lit- 
tle blot  upon  a  scene  so  gay — passed  onward  with  the 
rest. 

There  were  four  reception  rooms  opening  one  out  of 
the  other.  The  first  was  upholstered  in  a  faint  yellow 
hue,  which  admirably  suited  the  pale,  dark  coloring  of 
the  minister's  wife.  And  this  room  was  lavishly 
decked  with  the  most  recherclit  and  expensive  kind  of 


234  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

cream  narcissus  having  the  long  golden  center  bell. 
The  fireplace,  the  mantelpiece,  the  lamp  brackets  (the 
myriad  lights  being  also  shaded  in  faint  yellow),  and 
every  available  receptacle,  were  heaped  and  covered 
with  these  delicate,  highly  cultivated  blossoms,  each 
one  a  miracle  of  perfection  and  beauty. 

From  this  fairylike  scene  the  guest  passed  on  to  an 
apartment  upholstered  in  aesthetic  green  and  white, 
and  decked  with  maidenhair  and  Gloire  de  Dijon  roses 
in  beautiful,  lavish  masses. 

The  next  reception  room  was  of  well-toned  tints, 
both  enriched  and  softened  by  a  show  of  delicate  fan- 
tastic orchids,  each  one  a  wonder  in  itself,  and  so  dis- 
posed that  the  long,  trailing  blooms  seemed  fancifully 
etched  upon  the  bronze-colored  wall  beyond. 

And  last  there  was  a  large  brilliant  apartment  in 
pink,  or  in  some  faint,  indescribable  shade  of  that  color, 
the  vulgar  milkmaid  hue  being  toned  down  to  some- 
thing exquisite  which  could  hardly  tolerate  its  low- 
born name.  And  this  room  was  decked  with  gently 
perfumed  and  marvelously  tinted  azalea  blooms. 

It  was  a  scene  of  such  enchanting  beauty  and  taste 
that  only  the  extremely  well-bred  and  blast  managed 
to  pass  through  it  without  exclamation  or  remark,  and 
with  a  mere  determination  to  outdo  the  effect  when 
their  turn  for  an  entertainment  came  about. 

Carteret,  poor  little  blot,  wandered — or,  rather,  was 
brushed  on — through  the  exquisite  scene,  his  head 
thrust  forward,  his  brows  puckered,  his  restless  eyes 
searching  and  noting,  his  under  lip  pushed  out, 
grimacing  from  habit,  and  (again  from  lonely  habit) 
unconscious  and  lost  from  himself,  but  gathering  up 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  235 

all  that  he  saw  and  heard  with  his  swift  observant 
faculty. 

People  saw  and  noticed  him,  of  course.  Beautiful 
creatures — and  under  the  influence  of  the  lights  and 
the  color  plain  women  appeared  good  looking,  and 
good  looking  women  beautiful,  and  beautiful  women 
exquisite,  ethereal  angels,  while  everybody  lost  a 
decade  from  their  age — beautiful  creatures  remarked 
Carteret  as  they  passed ;  the  silken  and  lace  billows  of 
their  trains  swept  over  his  legs  and  knees  as  the 
wearers  undulated  onward,  and  some  of  them  glanced 
down  on  him  with  a  faint  amazement,  and  back  again, 
as  from  something  unpleasant  and  startling. 

Men  went  past  him  whose  shoulders  obscured  him ; 
he  noted  broad  backs  and  thick  necks  with  tight- 
cropped  polls;  gentlemanly,  cultivated  backs;  weak, 
slanting  backs,  with  irritable  shoulders,  and  long- 
stretched  necks,  and  unmanageable  hair  carefully  dis- 
tributed over  bald  heads;  scholarly,  university  men 
backs,  slightly  bent — every  kind  of  back  and  neck  and 
headpiece. 

"Know  lots  of  these  faces,"  muttered  Carteret  to 
himself.  "Punch — 'Essence  of  Parliament.'  " 

In  process  of  time — it  took  quite  an  hour — Carteret, 
with  his  observant  eyes,  had  arrived  at  the  last  apart- 
ment— at  the  room,  that  is,  decked  with  azaleas. 
From  this  there  was  a  wide  egress  into  an  open  space 
above  the  main  staircase.  The  azalea  room  appeared 
to  be  the  favorite,  partly  because  people  were  arrested 
in  it  by  the  fact  that  the  egress,  though  wide,  neces- 
sarily narrowed  the  stream,  and  partly  because  it  really 
was  the  most  beautiful  portion  of  the  scene.  Carteret, 


236  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

who  was  already  getting  bored  and  depressed,  had  con- 
templated passing  out  through  this  egress,  which  he 
had  detected  from  a  distance,  and  afterward  slipping 
away  home. 

He  paused  at  last  near  a  lounge,  constructed  to  hold 
two  persons  in  a  pleasant  t$te-a-t$te.  Looking  toward 
the  outlet,  he  found  that  it  was  blocked  by  silks  and 
satins,  dress  coats  and  their  wearers.  His  frail  body 
was  too  much  fatigued  for  him  to  attempt  the  stand- 
ing, waiting,  and  dexterous  pushing  necessary  before 
he  could  get  out ;  so  he  sank  down  on  the  lounge,  took 
out  his  handkerchief  to  mop  his  face,  and  resigned  him- 
self. Two  young  married  ladies  came  presently  and 
stood  in  front  of  him,  talking  together  in  calm  oblivion 
of,  or  indifference  to,  the  fact  that  so  insignificant  a 
person  as  this  small,  beetlelike  man  could  overhear 
every  word  they  uttered. 

"There  she  is !"  exclaimed  one  lady  to  the  other. 

They  turned  their  heads,  and  stretched  their  necks, 
and  looked  keenly  in  a  particular  direction.  The  tone 
in  which  the  three  words  were  uttered  was  noticeable; 
evidently  a  show  person  of  some  kind  was  approach- 
ing. Carteret  got  up,  stood  upon  a  footstool,  and 
looked  too. 

He  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  tall  and  slender  figure,  of 
a  magnificent  dress,  a  perfect  coiffure,  glittering  jewels, 
and  an  oval  cheek. 

Then  the  crowd  closed  over  the  form  ;  Carteret  got 
off  his  footstool  and  sat  down  again. 

"It  is  quite  too  sad  how  she  goes  off!"  said  the 
first  lady  in  that  make-believe  sympathetic  tone  which 
barely  smothers  self-congratulation. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  237 

"She  manages  to  be  very,  very  beautiful  still,"  re- 
turned the  second,  in  rather  a  longing  voice. 

"Thirty,  if  she's  a  day,  I  suppose !"  said  Mrs.  Four- 
and-twenty  disdainfully. 

"Well,  yes!  But  at  thirty  a  handsome  woman  is 
handsomer  still,"  returned  No.  2  a  little  anxiously. 
"There  is  esprit,  experience,  a  je  ne  sais  qiwi  that 
younger  women  miss.  It  isn't  her  age." 

"Oh,  I  am  aware  she  poses  for  originality  as  well! 
One  has  to  do  so  much  nowadays  to  be  anything." 
The  speaker  sighed.  "It  is  all  wear  and  tear.  The 
demands  on  one's  resources  are  continual." 

"All  the  pewter  gilded  and  rubbed  up  to  look  like 
gold,  and  everything  set  out  upon  the  counter  as  in 
any  trumpery  shop !"  said  No.  2,  with  unexpected 
asperity. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  that  I  should  care  to  be  as 
severe  upon  her  as  that !"  returned  the  first  dexter- 
ously, taking  refuge  from  the  hit  in  a  fold  of  the  gar- 
ment of  Charity. 

No.  2  colored  slightly  and  was  silent. 

"What,  now,  is  the  special  peculiarity  you  referred 
to?"  asked  the  first  lady,  in  a  voice  warmer  for  the 
sense  of  momentary  victory. 

"I  think  I  was  alluding  to  the  oddness  of  her  chari- 
ties. You  are  aware,  I  suppose,  that  she  takes  a  par. 
ticular  interest  in  women  who — are  no  better  than  they 
should  be?"  replied  the  second  in  a  lowered  voice. 

"Dear  me!  Is  that  all?"  returned  the  first,  in  an 
indifferent  tone.  "But  it  is  the  fashion  to  take  up  that 
sort  of  person  now.  It  makes  such  splendid  platform 
material." 


238  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"Oh,  yes!  But  it  is  not  in  that  way.  She  does  not 
exactly  take  them  up.  She  sympathizes  with  them." 

"Openly?" 

"Well,  of  course !" 

"You  call  that  charity  ?" 

"I  did." 

The  back  of  the  first  lady  expressed,  from  Carteret's 
point  of  view,  a  rigid  sense  of  her  own  virtue;  the  ear 
and  cheek  and  neck  of  the  second,  a  sense  of  confusion. 
No.  2  was  no  match  for  No.  I  ;  she  had  a  habit  of 
blushing.  Women  over  fifty  have  been  known  to 
retain  the  trick,  but  they  are  not  usually  social  suc- 
cesses. It  was  No.  I  who  hardily  returned  to  the 
topic. 

"How  does  she  exhibit  this — sympathy?" 

"By  never  assuming  any  superiority,  and  by  holding 
out  a  friendly,  helping  hand  where  she  can.  I  like  her 
face.  I  rather  like  her  odd  ways.  She  is  so  inoffen- 
sive and  gentle — and  strange" 

"H'm  !     Look  at  all  the  men  trooping  after  her!" 

"Oh,  well,  of  course !  She  is  a  great  society  belle — 
almost  historic." 

"Nothing,  I  suppose,  of  a  scandal  in  her  own  life?" 

"I  assure  you — no.  There  have  been  odd  freaks,  but 
no  scandal  whatever.  She  is  considered  exemplary — 
a  perfect  model  as " 

At  that  moment  the  on-coming  stream  moved  up  so 
determinedly  that  the  speakers  were  gently  brushed 
aside,  and  Carteret  lost  the  end  of  the  sentence.  He 
remained  seated  as  before,  and  was  presently  glad  to 
observe  that  the  lady  who  had  formed  the  subject  of 
so  engrossing  a  conversation  neared  the  spot,  and  stood 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  239 

for  a  moment  in  front  of  him,  exactly  as  the  late 
speakers  had  done. 

Carteret  looked  at  her  attentively — at  so  much  of 
her,  that  is,  as  he  could  see.  To  him  she  presented  an 
appearance  made  up  of  soft  color,  lace,  mystery,  sweet 
odor,  flowers,  and  jewels.  There  would  have  been 
nothing  more  than  that  for  him  had  it  not  been  for  the 
words  which  he  had  overheard ;  she  would  have  been 
a  shining  something  outside  his  ken  and  his  world — 
something  with  which  he  had  better  not  trouble  him- 
self, had  it  not  been  for  these.  As  it  was,  he  surmised 
the  human  being  beneath  the  ethereal  wrappings,  and 
peered  somewhat  curiously  at  the  slender,  graceful 
neck,  with  its  splendid  diamond  necklet  and  the  irre- 
pressible small  rings  of  dark  hair  which  would  escape 
from  the  jeweled  pins  to  prettily  intrude  themselves 
upon  it. 

Presently  she  moved  a  little. 

"Let  me  sit  down,"  said  she,  in  the  softest  and  most 
weary  voice  which  Carteret  had  ever  heard. 

She  addressed  herself  to  the  man  by  whose  side  she 
had  advanced  into  the  azalea  chamber.  Carteret 
sprang  up  and  moved  aside,  and  the  dark  lady  seated 
herself,  submitting  as  she  did  so  patiently  to  a  certain 
fussy  assiduity  from  her  companion,  who,  however, 
immediately  left  her — almost,  Carteret  thought,  with 
an  air  of  relief. 

It  was  then  that  the  strange  thing  happened  to  Car- 
teret. He  had  relinquished  the  idea  of  escaping,  and 
stood  by  the  lounge,  looking  down  on  her.  He  was 
vaguely  conscious  of  a  buzzing  pressure  of  men  around 
and  near  him — as  bees  press  round  a  honey-laden 


240  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

flower — and  he  himself  was  lost  in  the  quiet,  almost 
religious,  contemplation  of  the  beautiful  face  near  him. 
It  was  overwearied  and  too  languid,  but  beautiful — 
how  beautiful !  Suddenly — he  could  scarcely  say  how 
it  happened — he  felt  that  she  looked  at  him  and  had 
noted  his  appearance.  That  was  followed  by  a  faint 
though  unmistakable  sign — he  hardly  knew  how  to 
characterize  it — that  she  wished  him  to  take  the  seat 
by  her  side. 

Carteret  placed  himself  on  the  lounge. 

He  had  no  scruple  in  watching  her.  Was  not  she 
there  to  be  watched?  Indeed,  her  attraction  was  so 
great  that  he  was  not  able  to  prevent  himself  from 
doing  it.  She  leaned  back  in  an  attitude  of  indiffer- 
ence, her  long  lashes  on  her  cheek,  and  her  hands  idly 
holding  her  fan.  It  was  doubtful  whether  she  saw  the 
azaleas,  whether  she  saw  anything  of  her  surroundings. 
Her  beauty  attracted  more  and  more  of  the  passing 
people ;  they  made  excuses  to  pause  and  look  at  her. 
Carteret  became  convinced  that  everyone  knew  her  or 
recognized  her;  her  name,  he  perceived,  was  whispered 
from  tongue  to  tongue,  though  he  did  not  catch  it. 
To  all  this,  to  all  the  stir  which  her  appearance  and 
presence  excited,  she  seemed,  however,  blind  or  indif- 
ferent. The  deepest  respect  was  in  everyone's  bear- 
ing, but  some  there  were  who  envied  Carteret  his  seat. 

Carteret  remarked  this;  but  he  refused  to  budge. 
Inconceivable,  incomprehensible  though  it  was,  he  was 
convinced  that  he  had  received  an  invitation  to  seat 
himself  by  her  side.  While  others  buzzed  and  paused 
impatiently  around,  held  off  by  the  invisible  barriers  a 
woman  knows  how  to  raise,  he  was  permitted  to  re- 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    IV OMAN.  241 

main  snugly  beside  her,  a  delicate  fold  of  her  drapery 
intruding  over  his  knee — he,  the  odd  little  blot  on  the 
brilliant  scene. 

Men  began  to  cast  angry  glances  at  him ;  but  Car- 
teret  sat  on.  He  sat  there  speechless,  his  arms  folded 
together  over  his  bent  figure,  his  eyes  fixed  on  a  defi- 
nite spot  in  the  leg  of  the  trousers  of  the  man  in  front 
of  him,  and  his  under  lip  shot  out.  The  sarcasm  of 
his  face,  the  crumpled  figure  with  its  stubborn  pose, 
held  them  all  at  arm's  length  as  effectually  as  did  the 
cold  graces  of  the  lady. 

"Beauty  and  the  Beast,"  murmured  over  his  head  a 
faultlessly  attired  wag,  with  more  shirtfront  than  brains. 

At  that  moment  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder, 
and  he  raised  his  head  to  find  leaning  over  him  the 
genial  face  of  the  first  friend  he  had  met  that  evening — 
the  friend  to  whose  good  offices  he  owed  his  introduc- 
tion to  the  scene.  Carteret's  mouth  puckered  good- 
naturedly. 

"Lucky  dog!"  whispered  the  friend. 

His  eyes  glanced  across  to  the  beautiful  woman  and 
laughed  back  at  the  little  man. 

"Just  so,"  said  Carteret. 

"Won't  you  come  out  of  this  and  have  a  chat?" 

"No." 

"Well,  I  can't  say  I  wonder.  By  the  way,  old  man, 
have  you  seen  Cornerstone  lately?" 

"Cornerstone!"  repeated  Carteret.  "Have  I  seen 
Cornerstone?  Why  don't  you  ask  me  if  I've  eaten  and 
drunk  and  slept  and  clothed  myself  lately?" 

"I  see.  All  right,  old  fellow!  Don't  go  up  in  a 
balloon  !  We're  all  mortal !  But  just  tell  him  I've  got 


242  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

the  new  microscope  I  spoke  of,  and  ask  him  to  drop  in 
and  look  at  it.     And,  Carteret — 

"Well?" 

"Just  come  out  of  this  and  have  a  chat.  There  is 
something  particular  I  wish  to  speak  of." 

"I  don't  budge." 

The  friend  laughed,  and  passed  on. 

Then  Carteret  started  again.  A  hand  was  laid  on 
his  arm  from  the  other  side. 

"Sir,  I  beg  your  pardon  !" 

Turning  quickly,  he  found  the  most  perfectly  beau- 
tiful face  he  had  ever  seen  anxiously  bending  toward 
him.  The  eyes  were  remarkable — even  startling. 
Wide  open  as  they  were  now,  and  dark  as  night,  they 
appeared  to  him  to  be  dashed  by  an  incomprehensible 
and  haunting  look  of  horror.  So  deep  were  the  pupils, 
so  marvelously  transfixing  in  their  look  of  human 
entreaty  and  fear,  that  Carteret  gazed  back  at  them  fof 
several  perceptible  seconds  silently. 

"You  mentioned — I  thought — you  mentioned  a 
name?" 

MYes;  I  mentioned  the  name  Cornerstone.  I  spoke 
of  my  friend  Dr.  Cornerstone,"  replied  Carteret,  attun- 
ing his  voice  to  unaccustomed  softness. 

"Is  he  living?     Is  he  well?     Do  you  see  him?" 

"He  is  living  and  well,  and  I  see  him  every  day  of 
my  life." 

"Then  you  will  give  him  a  message?" 

"Willingly." 

"Sir,  I  trust  you.  I  do  not  know  who  you  are,  but 
I  trust  you — not  to  forget." 

"I  will  not  forget." 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  243 

At  that  moment  a  shadow  fell  upon  them.  The 
beautiful  woman  felt  it,  and  shivered  before  she  looked 
up.  Carteret,  shrinking  instinctively,  also  raised  his 
head.  He  had  heard  the  speech  before  he  saw  the 
man. 

"I'm  going  directly,  don't  you  know,"  said  a  voice 
whose  minutest  tone  was  saturated  with  mental  dis- 
ease and  feebleness.  "  Take  my  wife  home,  don't  you 
know." 

The  speaker  bent  over  the  sofa,  disclosing  to  Car- 
teret a  tall  head  with  retreating  forehead  bald  at  the 
temples,  the  hair  limp,  fair,  and  thin,  the  nose  small, 
narrow,  and  mean,  the  eyes  old,  and  the  lips  wandering 
and  feeble.  He  put  out  his  hand,  and  took  hold  of 
that  of  the  beautiful  woman.  Carteret  expected  her 
to  wince. 

Instead  of  that  her  hand  rested  quietly  in  his,  and 
her  face  was  attentive  and  no  more. 

"Don't  you  think  you've  had  enough  of  it?  Shan't 
you  be  tired?  I'm  deuced  sick  of  the  thing  myself. 
Do  you  want  to  stop,  or  will  you  come?" 

There  was  a  note  of  anxiety  in  his  appeal. 

"I  will  come." 

Her  voice  was  a  little  dazed,  and  her  eyes,  still  with 
the  strange  look  in  them,  wandered  back  to  Carteret. 

"Well,  then,  come  now,"  returned  her  husband 
querulously. 

She  rose,  dropped  her  handkerchief,  and,  as  Carteret 
stooped  to  pick  it  up,  stooped  also,  and  contrived  to 
whisper  in  a  wild,  hurried  voice  these  words: 

"Tell  him — I  entreat  you  not  to  forget — tell  him  to 
come — beseech  him — pray  him  to  come  !" 


244  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

Then  she  took  the  arm  of  her  husband  ungrudgingly, 
and  they  turned  away  together  quietly,  amicably,  as 
any  other  united  pair  might  do. 

Carteret  rose  and  followed  them.  She  had  neglected 
to  give  him  her  name,  and  it  was  necessary  that  he 
should  know  it.  He  watched  narrowly  to  see  if  she 
would  shrink,  would  snatch  her  hand  away,  or  whether 
either  of  the  pair  would  exhibit  signs  of  that  connubial 
impatience  which  is  of  all  earthly  experiences  the  bit- 
terest and  most  hateful.  Nothing  of  the  kind.  The 
ill-assorted  couple  kept  as  close  together  when  no  one 
was  watching  as  when  they  were  being  observed,  and 
it  was  to  her  husband  she  turned  when  the  costly  wrap 
was  to  be  hung  about  her  shoulders. 

Whatever  this  hidden  tragedy  might  be,  it  had  ele- 
ments in  it  not  of  the  common  sordid  kind. 

As  the  pair  stood  waiting  in  the  hall,  surrounded  by 
footmen  and  the  bustle  of  departing  guests,  Carteret 
fancied  that  a  certain  mysterious  isolation  marked 
them  out,  discriminated,  and  united  them — as  some 
pairs  have  been  united  in  the  imagination  of  all  time, 
within  the  circle  of  the  peculiarly  damned. 

Presently  a  splendid  menial  came  forward  and 
announced : 

"Lady  Heriot's  carriage  stops  the  way !" 

And  then  the  pair  moved  forward  together,  and 
together  vanished. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

DR.  CORNERSTONE  had  moved  his  place  of  resi- 
dence. He  had  left  Bloomsbury,  and  taken  a  house  in 
the  district  of  West  St.  Pancras,  not  far  from  Regent's 
Park.  Here  he  could  give  his  wife  and  children  the 
advantage  of  a  beautiful  open  space,  green  trees,  and 
some  picturesqueness,  and  yet  not  be  too  far  from  the 
center  of  things,  that  being,  in  his  eyes,  the  East  End. 

In  West  St.  Pancras,  close  to,  and  yet  isolated  from, 
the  main  thoroughfares,  with  their  noise  and  traffic, 
one  comes  on  the  unexpected  oasis  of  a  quiet  'street, 
of  a  little  nest  of  pleasant  detached  houses,  each  with 
its  own  bright  garden. 

In  this  street  Dr.  Cornerstone  had  settled  himself 
with  his  wife  and  children.  He  had  selected  it  because 
the  atmosphere  was  bright  and  healthy,  and  this  he 
knew  to  be  essential  to  proper  development  and  happy 
existence. 

Dr.  Cornerstone  had  no  mind  to  embrace  in  his  own 
person  and  in  those  nearest  to  him  the  misery  from 
which  he  daily  saw  others  suffering.  He  preferred  to 
maintain  a  high  though  simple  standard  of  comfort, 
and  he  would  no  more  have  attempted  to  improve  and 
assist  a  suffering  world  by  adopting  in  his  own  person 
any  portion  of  the  scandalous  poverty  and  degradation 
inflicted  upon  the  struggling  hordes  of  the  workers 
than  he  would  have  tried  to  save  it  by  assuming  the 


246  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

wicked  luxury  and  degradation  of  the  superfluous  rich. 
He  regarded  it  as  his  first  duty — as  it  is,  indeed,  that 
of  every  responsible  citizen — to  keep  himself  and  those 
whose  well-being  depended  upon  him  sane  in  body  and 
mind ;  the  pursuit  of  wholeness  was  the  aim  by  which 
he  determined  his  daily  personal  conduct.  His  second 
duty  was  the  work  which  he  had  cut  out  for  himself  in 
life,  and  that  was — the  rescue  of  others  from  the  high 
misdemeanors  consequent  upon  either  poverty  or 
wealth.  That  work  occupied  all  his  time  and  energies. 

Dr.  Cornerstone's  practice  had  increased,  and  as  it 
included  the  rich  as  well  as  the  poor,  he  found  himself 
in  a  position  to  give  more  and  more  of  his  advice  gratis 
where  it  was  most  needed. 

His  name  had  become  a  well-known  one,  so  that  the 
idle  rich  would  appeal  to  him  when,  beaten  by  the  dis- 
eases that  follow  in  the  train  of  ennui,  excess,  and  self- 
indulgence,  the  human  nature  within  them  revolted 
against  its  own  sickliness  and  yearned  for  a  tonic. 
This  the  caustic  tone  of  the  uncompromising  doctor 
was  sure  to  present,  for  his  habit  was  the  commingling 
of  heart-searching  advice  with  medicinal  prescription. 

To  sick  women  among  the  rich  Dr.  Cornerstone 
habitually  mingled  mercy  and  tenderness  with  his  firm 
truth-speaking,  save  in  a  few  instances.  There  had 
been  cases  when  the  dealings  of  the  doctor  with  his 
feminine  patients  had  been,  indeed,  awe-inspiring. 

There  was  no  doubt  that  he  regarded  all  disease  as 
being  somewhat  of  the  nature  of  moral  delinquency, 
or,  at  least,  as  being  closely  connected  with  it.  This 
somewhat  severe  idea  was  really  the  occasion  of  the 
optimism  which  was  unexpectedly  found  to  color  his 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN,  247 

otherwise  grim  appreciation  of  the  misery  amid  which 
he  found  himself.  Possibly  he  needed  a  strong  imagi- 
nation to  support  him  under  the  burden  of  human  woe. 
And  his  imagination  was  of  the  kind  which  extracts 
from  desolating  facts  a  reason  and  a  cause,  and  which 
possesses  an  invincible  faith  in  remedial  application. 
Dr.  Cornerstone  could  never  persuade  himself  to  accept 
evil  when  he  saw  it,  or  to  pause  on  the  indulgence  of 
mere  emotion;  the  sight  of  evil  invigorated  his  will, 
stirred  up  his  brain,  and  drove  him  on  to  that  kind  of 
beneficent  action  which  is  named  hard  thinking. 

After  some  particularly  heartrending  experience 
among  the  wretched  and  forsaken  of  mankind,  he 
would  come  home  and  sit  with  knit  reflective  brows, 
dreaming  dreams,  and  seeing  prophetic  visions,  until  at 
last  he  would  shake  off  his  depression  in  the  startling 
declaration  that  old  age  and  death  themselves — those 
two  unconquerable  items  of  our  fate — might,  for  all  he 
knew,  lie  finally  in  the  hands  of  the  Race,  so  magnifi- 
cent a  latent  power  to  work  out  his  own  salvation  did 
he  discover  inclosed  within  the  brain  and  heart  and  will 
of  man. 

On  a  soft,  warm  evening,  a  day  or  two  after  the 
Minister's  great  entertainment,  Dr.  Cornerstone  sat  on 
the  veranda  of  his  house  with  his  friend  Carteret. 

The  windows  of  the  sitting  room  were  thrown  open 
behind  him,  and  every  now  and  then  a  child  or  two 
stepped  out,  ran  to  play  in  the  garden,  and  ran  in 
again.  There  was  an  attraction  in  the  sitting  room 
that  called  the  little  ones  constantly  back  to  itself. 
The  mother  sat  there  with  her  work;  her  soft  move- 
ments, the  snip  of  the  scissors,  the  laying  down  of  the 


248  A  SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

reel,  the  rustle  of  material,  the  gentle  voice  speaking  to 
the  children,  came  through  the  open  window  to  her 
husband's  ear  and  accompanied  his  thoughts  and  con- 
versation. 

The  ten  years  which  had  passed  over  Dr.  Corner- 
stone's head  had  changed  his  brown  hair  to  silver,  his 
eyes  were  tenderer  and  more  attentive  than  they  had 
been,  and  his  mouth  a  trifle  firmer,  otherwise  he  was 
unaltered. 

Near  the  pair  a  laburnum  hung  its  delicate,  beauti- 
ful flowers;  the  trees  were  covered ^with  fresh  and 
beautiful  green,  and  the  sun  turned  the  well-cut  lawn 
into  a  carpet  of  gold.  Around  in  the  air  the  roar  and 
jar  of  traffic  was  all  too  close,  yet  not  so  near  but  that 
the  softest  tone  might  be  heard,  and  the  pants  of  the 
children's  breath  from  their  little  red  mouths  as  they 
ran,  and  their  light  footfall  in  the  race. 

"The  age,"  Dr.  Cornerstone  was  saying,  "belongs  to 
the  common  life  that  flows  through  our  streets,  and 
not  to  rank,  riches,  nor  genius." 

"I  am  aware  that  we  are  destined  to  sit  under  the 
footstool  of  the  mob,  and  hob-a-nob  with  the  tramp," 
responded  Carteret  meekly. 

"When  I  see  anyone  adorning  and  yet  more  adorn- 
ing his  own  life,  and  refining  and  yet  more  refining  his 
own  spirit,  and  comforting  his  spiritual  imagination  for 
this  world  and  the  next " 

"You  yearn  to  bundle  him  and  his  fads  off  this  seri- 
ous earth,"  interrupted  Carteret,  with  his  usual  dry  air. 
"But  when  the  virtuous  recognizes  his  kin  in  the  com- 
monplace sinner,  and  the  man  of  genius  does  not  exalt 
himself  aeainst  the  fool — what  then?" 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   IV OMAN.  249 

'"There  you  are  at  your  ineradicable  individualism 
again  !"  said  Cornerstone  testily. 

"Oh,  take  all  the  feathers  out  of  all  my  caps!" 

"A  good  brain  is,  in  justice  and  right,  a  communal 
belonging.  It  owes  rent  to  the  community,  just  as  the 
possessor  of  a  good  field,  or  a  mine,  or  any  other 
special  advantage,  owes  rent  to  the  rest  to  make  the 
balance  even." 

"This  intrusive  age !"  sighed  Carteret ;  "it  leaves  us 
no  privacy,  nor  any  private  property — not  even  our 
own  heads!" 

"Those  least  of  all.  The  better  furnished  one  head 
is,  the  less  is  there  left  for  the  rest." 

"I  decline  that!"  said  Carteret. 

"I  insist!"  returned  Cornerstone;  "there  are  limita- 
tions everywhere.  If  we  use  up  the  national  capacity 
as  a  forcing  bed  for  the  few,  we  draw  off  mental  power 
from  the  rest.  The  best  individual  brain  falls  off  some- 
where ;  so  of  the  national  brain.  I  seem  to  see " 

"What?" 

"I  seem  to  see  each  man  of  genius  and  capacity 
among  us  dogged  in  his  steps  by  the  pauper,  the  im- 
becile, and  the  rogue.  I  will  say  that  the  crime, 
imbecility,  and  degradation  beneath  stultify  the  refined 
product  above.  What  national  pride  can  we  have  so 
long  as  one  degraded  specimen  is  left  to  run  like  a  rat 
to  a  hole  at  the  tread  of  a  policeman?  Our  symposium 
at  Westminster  is  canceled  by  our  thieves'  quarter,  just 
as  a  City  feast  in  November  is  canceled  by  the  hunger 
of  the  unemployed.  In  these  things  we  are  debtors." 

"But  how  to  get  at  the  complaisant  consciences  of 
the  mentally  endowed?"  asked  Carteret. 


250  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"Would  that  I  could  do  it!"  returned  the  doctor. 
"Would  that  I  could  bring  your  man  of  abnormal 
brain  power  into  contact — genuine  spiritual  contact — 
with  some  of  the  broken  and  degraded,  and  say  to  him, 
1  There  lies  the  blot  to  your  personal  civilization ;  this 
savagery  shames  your  development,  this  noisome 
shadow  dogs  your  advance  and  belongs  to  it.  Wipe 
out  that  blot,  change  these  shadows,  cancel  this  shame, 
or  your  presence  in  our  midst,  and  not  theirs,  is  the 
worst  of  our  national  disgraces.' ' 

The  doctor  stretched  his  arms  out  and  got  rid  of  the 
irritation  of  shirt  cuffs,  while  he  gazed  at  the  setting 
sun.  It  burned  slowly  down  through  the  trees  oppo- 
site and  sent  flames  of  color  up  into  the  London  sky. 
A  child  ran  suddenly  forward  and  leaned  a  round  pair 
of  arms  upon  its  father's  knees,  looking  up  into  his 
face  silently  and  happily.  Then  it  darted  away  to  its 
play. 

"Cornerstone!" 

Carteret's  voice  was  sad  and  musing.  An  unwonted 
depression  had  characterized  him  during  this  interview. 
The  doctor  turned  and  looked  at  his  friend. 

"When  we  have  harried  all  the  rogues  off  the  face  of 
the  earth,  and  solved  all  our  problems — the  women  we 
have  always  with  us." 

"Ah,  I  for  one  decline  to  speak  of  that  difficult 
problem  as  an  insoluble  one.  I  will  never  allow  that 
natural  law  is  so  stubbornly  adjusted  as  to  leave  one- 
half  the  race  under  a  real,  permanent  disadvantage." 

"Of  late  an  odd  thing  happened  to  me." 

"Out  with  it." 

"I  went  the    other  day  to   a   great  entertainment. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN,        ,  25 J 

I  was  present  at  Lady  Shunland's  the  other  even- 
ing." 

"Poor  strayed  sheep!     Poor  fish  out  of  water!" 

"It  was  there  the  odd  thing  befell  me.  I  saw  there 
the  most  beautiful  woman  in  England — or  in  Europe, 
for  the  matter  of  that." 

"H'm  !"  said  the  doctor,  with  an  uneasy  frown.  "In 

my  opinion  there's  no  beauty  left  since "  He 

broke  off  suddenly,  and  that  with  an  eye  of  regret. 
"Well,  proceed." 

"  I  saw  her,  and  she  exhibited  toward  me  a  certain 
favor." 

"The  deuce  she  did !  The  jade !  That  was  your 
odd  experience,  eh?" 

"She  held  all  the  men  at  a  distance.  None  might 
come  near  her,  saving  myself;  I  was  the  favored  one. 
I  might  sit  by  her  side  with  a  fold  of  her  dress  over  my 
knee." 

"The  Jezebel  had  heard  of  your  book,  Carteret. 
They'll  take  up  with  anybody  when  they  fancy  it 
increases  their  power." 

"I  found  myself  touched,  Cornerstone." 

"Devil  take  her!  Pooh!  Did  I  swear?  Don't  let 
my  wife  hear!" 

The  doctor  here  cast  a  rather  fearful  glance  toward 
the  sitting  room,  whence  now  came  the  gentle  click  of 
knitting  needles. 

"I  was  moved  by  her,  Cornerstone — moved  as  I 
rarely  am  by  a  woman.  I  suspect  them  all — range 
myself  against  them  all  by  instinct.  With  this  one,  on 
the  contrary,  I  took  sides  against  the  world." 

The  doctor  shook  his  head. 


252  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"This  is  bad,  Carteret,  bad !  You  are  advanced  in 
life,  but  that  makes  the  case  worse.  Change  of  scene 
might,  however,  be  effectual." 

"  Ever  since  I  saw  those  eyes  of  hers  I  have  been 
dreaming." 

"Heavens  and  earth!     What  of!" 

"Of  mortal  ruin  and  despair." 

"Ah — h !  I  see,  I  see.  This  is  not  a  common  case — 
no  mere  outbreak  on  the  part  of  an  elderly  old  fellow 
who  ought  to  know  better?  Proceed." 

"There  was  something  in  the  eyes  that  went  straight 
to  my  heart.  I  could  believe  that  I  had  heard  the  cry 
of  a  lost  soul.  My  bodily  ear  did  not  receive  the 
words,  yet  they  haunt  my  mind  as  though  they  had 
been  spoken:  'I  am  lost  beyond  hope!  But  soothe 
my  soul  with  one  drop  of  human  comfort  before  hell 
swallows  me  up  forever!'  " 

"Indeed!  indeed!" 

"I  am  tough  enough,  yet  I  cannot  endure  the  mem- 
ory of  that  woman's  eyes." 

"Poor  soul!  she  was  in  the-*usual  feminine  predica- 
ment. Sucked  in  by  love  and  passion  into  some  moral 
morass?" 

"I  hardly  think  it." 

"What,  then?" 

"There  were  certain  indications  that  the  case  was 
peculiar." 

"Well,  her  name?" 

"Her  name !  That  is  a  thing  of  disgrace — a  name  to 
scald  the  tongue!" 

"Pretty  company  for  you  to  be  in!  What  name 
was  it?" 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  253 

"A  great  name  as  the  world  goes.  She  answered  to 
'Lady  Heriot.'  " 

"Ah,  my  prophetic  soul !" 

The  doctor  set  both  hands  on  the  arms  of  his  chair, 
leaned  forward,  and  stared  silently  in  Carteret's  face. 

"Did  you  know  of  this  thing,  Cornerstone?" 

"It  is  far  off  now — the  marriage,  I  mean.  I  have 
put  it  out  of  my  head  as  much  as  possible,  seeing  that 
it  was  unalterable.  I  heard  nothing  from  her  since  I 
received  the  long  letter  I  told  you  of  prior  to  her  dis- 
appearance. A  little  more  than  a  year  afterward  I 
read  in  the  paper  that  she  had  married  that  revolting 
brute." 

"He  was  there  with  her." 

"Well?     And  she  has  made  her  discoveries?" 

The  doctor  was  a  little  pale  about  the  cheeks,  and 
his  jaw  looked  square  and  black  and  ugly. 

"She  has  found  out  something''  returned  Carteret; 
"some  more  than  ordinary  experience  has  produced  in 
her  eyes  a  certain  look  of  unfathomable  sadness.  I 
should  call  it  more  than  sadness.  Some  sight  she  has 
seen,  some  shock  she  has  received,  has  impressed  itself 
permanently  on  her  mind.  Of  this  I  feel  sure." 

"Did  you  speak  to  her?     Were  you  introduced?" 

"I  was  not  introduced.     Yet  we  spoke  together." 

"Anything  of  note?" 

"It  was  confidential.  For  once  my  withered  hideous- 
ness  was  of  service  with  a  woman.  She  wanted  me  to 
sit  by  her  and  protect  her  from  the  nauseous  assiduities 
of  sexual  admiration.  Poor  wretch !  poor  wretch ! 
They  educated  her  into  sexuality  until  it  is  impossible 
for  her  to  avoid  exciting  the  corresponding  senusality 


254  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

in  our  coarser  natures.  With  me,  however,  she  was 
safe.  She  detected  it  by  instinct.  And  how  unerring 
have  her  instincts  become  on  matters  such  as  these ! 
By  me  she  sat  contentedly,  at  rest." 

"How  did  you  know  it?" 

Something  burned  for  a  moment  in  the  eyes  and 
withered  face  of  Carteret,  something  that  was  like  a 
flame  from  a  long  repressed  smolder  of  pain  at  the 
center  of  his  being.  But  his  voice  in  replying  was 
commonplace  and  quiet. 

"Because,"  he  said,  "usually  women  cast  a  hasty 
glance  at  me  and  scuttle  away.  I  am  so  accustomed 
to  it,  so  prepared  for  the  inevitable  moment  of  repul- 
sion, that  the  slightest  variation  appeals  to  me  like  a 
plain  word.  Lady  Heriot's  lovely  eyes  noted  me  and 
my  deformity  as  I  made  room  for  her  to  reach  a 
lounge,  and  as  she  seated  herself  she  indicated  by  a 
look,  by  a  movement  of  the  hand,  that  the  place  beside 
her  was  vacant.  That  in  itself  was  an  event  to  a  man 
such  as  I  am.  It  was  a  greater  when  she  did  not  with- 
draw the  trespassing  fold  of  her  gown,  nor  shrink  from 
me  into  the  remotest  corner." 

Dr.  Cornerstone  drew  his  handkerchief  out  and  dried 
a  drop  or  two  that  stood  on  his  forehead. 

"You  comprehend,"  he  said,  "that  the  inimitable 
Jessamine  was  the  most  precious  of  my  patients?" 

"Well,  as  I  said,  she  spoke  to  me." 

"Yes?" 

"A  friend  of  mine  mentioned  the  name  of  someone 
with  whom  she  was  once  acquainted." 

"That  would  be  me." 

"Just   so.      There   is   some   tragedy  behind— some 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  255 

weight  on  her  mind.  She  found  the  occasion  to  send 
you  a  message.  She  whispered  in  my  ear:  'Tell  him 
to  call.  Tell  him  to  come.  Beseech  him !  pray 
him!'" 

The  sun  was  edging  slowly  out  of  the  sky;  nothing 
but  a  red  half  disk  remained.  Dr.  Cornerstone  leaned 
back  in  his  chair  and  stared  at  it. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  sexes  suspect  each  other.  Even  the  heartiest 
sympathy  falls  short  of  sympathy  in  proportion  as 
there  is  therein  an  admixture  of  good-natured  toler- 
ance. And  much  of  the  sympathy  between  sex  and 
sex  is  no  more  than  a  purposed  toleration  of  probable 
weakness  little  understood. 

There  was  a  note  in  Jessamine's  message  pitched 
too  high  for  Dr.  Cornerstone's  comprehension.  Even 
his  insight  into  her  probable  misery  could  not  account 
for  it,  and  it  irritated  him. 

"She  can  go  away.  She  can  break  the  tie.  Let  her 
free  herself,"  said  he. 

To  those  not  within  the  delicate  meshes  of  some 
difficulty  action  seems  always  possible. 

"It  seems  easy,  doesn't  it?  The  odd  thing  is  that 
everybody's  individual  mess  is  a  sort  of  charmed  circle 
out  of  which  they  do  not  find  it  so  simple  to  step," 
returned  Carteret.  "Shall  you  go?" 

"Yes.     Hysteria  and  wretchedness  are  my  business." 

It  was  getting  dusk  next  day  when  Dr.  Cornerstone 
found  himself  alone  in  the  private  sitting  room  of  Lady 
Heriot.  A  single  lamp,  covered  with  a  shade,  served 
rather  to  add  to  the  obscurity  than  to  illumine  it,  but 
he  saw  that  the  room  was  furnished  with  every  possi- 
ble luxury.  It  gave  him  a  sense  of  oppression  to  be 
there;  the  wretched  hours  spent  therein  by  an  un- 

956 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  257 

happy  soul  burdened  the  atmosphere.  There  seemed 
no  escaping  the  infection ;  the  breath  sucked  it  in,  and 
it  lay  heavy  on  the  heart.  He  sat  down  to  await  her 
coming;  he  thought  of  her  as  of  one  who  had  left  his 
guidance  to  learn  life's  merciless  lesson  by  herself. 
Some  deep  experience  she  had  conned  alone.  But 
that,  he  said,  is  life.  And  here,  after  ten  years,  he  sat 
on  her  hearth  watching  the  light  stealing  from  the  win- 
dow and  giving  place  to  shadows,  and  the  lamp  glow- 
ing more  and  more  to  a  ruby  redness.  Loneliness,  he 
said,  and  isolated  experience  are  the  great  facts;  we 
may  be  conscious  of  the  rod  above  us — the  rod  that 
falls  when  errors  are  made — but  we  spell  the  lesson 
alone.  The  rest — sweet  mates  and  the  play  hour — is 
palliation  and  exception.  It  is  a  dream,  haunting  the 
heart  against  all  knowledge  to  the  contrary,  when  we 
say  to  ourselves  that  one  day  we  shall  sit  hand-in-hand 
with  some  lost  beloved  creature,  the  barriers  broken 
between,  hearing  without  reserve  at  last — at  last — the 
untold  history. 

Oh,  groundless  hope!  he  said.  Time  shakes  the 
sands  down  in  the  glass,  the  thief  Age  strips  us  of  our 
opportunity,  and  Death  steals  on  and  hems  the  way  at 
last ;  and  still  the  heart,  befooled  with  visions,  holds 
to  its  goal  and  runs.  One  day — so  we  picture,  he 
said — we  shall  overtake  the  vanishing  moment,  catch 
up  the  long-sought  friend,  and,  as  self  to  self,  bend  and 
listen  to  the  story,  feeling  no  need  to  pardon,  or  for- 
bear, or  excuse. 

To  visions  impossible  as  these,  was  there  a  substance 
and  a  counterpart?  He  thought,  perchance,  it  might 
be  so.  He  thought  that  he  who  silently  loves  his 


258  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WO  MAX. 

friend,  without  one  breath  of  the  word  "forgiveness" 
in  between,  who  wholly  loves,  accepting  utterly,  comes 
nearest — for  all  dividing  space  and  years  and  facts — to 
that  most  unattainable  and  sweetest  of  dreams. 

A  curtain,  Dr.  Cornerstone  observed,  hung  over  one 
corner  of  the  room.  To  that  his  eyes  wandered  from 
time  to  time  uneasily.  Would  it  be  from  such  a  pall- 
like  symbol  of  mysterious  years  that  Jessamine  would 
step?  He  thought  of  her  past  as  lying  huddled  be- 
hind it,  and  of  her  face  straining  toward  him  in  speech- 
less consciousness  of  what  was  hidden  there,  the  eyes 
full  of  the  eternal  voiceless  cry  of  the  human  creature: 
"Oh,  fellow-soul!  There  lies  the  irrevocable  thing  be- 
hind me!  Is  there  hope?  Has  life  taught  you  that 
there  is  consolation  anywhere?" 

He  fancied  he  caught  the  faint  rustle  of  a  garment — 
a  step.  No;  there  was  nothing.  The  air  was  full  of 
steps;  they  walked  and  pattered  through  his  heart, 
departing — departing.  As  hopes  unrealized,  that  come 
and  pass  beside  the  waiting  heart  and  go,  as  steps  of 
those  that  move  away,  they  beat  despairing  rhythms 
in  his  ear.  Oh,  for  the  steps  that  pause  and  enter! 

He  imagined  that  he  heard  a  sigh.  That  went,  he 
thought,  through  a  frozen  world,  wherein  the  voices  of 
all  nature  were  stilled.  Of  all  earth's  once  myriad 
cries  there  remained  only  this  thin  and  broken  sigh, 
the  lasting  thing  being  grief — unresting  grief.  When 
Earth  is  dead,  and  the  sun  has  perished,  some  poor 
belated  and  lost  soul,  heaven-banished,  hell-rejected, 
will  wander  hitherward,  and  come  back,  and  sigh  like 
that,  he  said. 

Looking  again   toward   the  curtain,  he  saw  now  a 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  259 

white  hand  thrust  between — a  hesitating,  timid  hand — 
which  slid  away  again. 

His  head  drooped.  So  had  he  seen  a  tiny  promise 
creep  toward  a  life  palled  with  sorrow,  the  dull  monot- 
ony of  grief  fluttered  by  a  beckoning  finger,  which 
vanished  when  the  frozen  heart  began  to  beat.  Strange 
torturing  trick  of  fate! 

When  he  raised  his  eyes  again,  he  became  aware  of 
Jessamine's  presence.  A  woman,  clothed  in  a  long 
white  gown,  held  the  folds'of  the  curtain  apart  and 
stood  between,  darkness  behind  her.  When  their  eyes 
met,  she  dropped  her  hands,  and  came  a  step  forward, 
and  paused  and  looked  at  him  again.  The  weight  of 
years  was  in  her  face,  and  in  her  eyes  questions  deep 
as  death. 

He  rose  from  his  seat.  More  startled  than  he  could 
have  conceived  possible,  he  barely  managed  to  mur- 
mur her  name. 

She  advanced,  and  placed  her  hand  in  his. 

"It  is  you — at  last,"  she  said,  in  a  small,  low  voice, 
about  which,  as  on  a  weak  string,  hung  heavy  beads  of 
most  impressive  tears. 

"Jessamine !"  he  repeated,  drawing  through  the 
name  the  lingering  memory  of  what  had  once  been 
bright  and  fair. 

She  turned  aside  as  though  her  little  strength  gave 
way,  and,  sinking  down,  laid  her  face  against  the 
cushions  of  a  chair,  like  one  for  whom  the  storm  has 
been  too  cruel. 

Life  had  its  ghosts,  it  appeared  ;  the  woman  before 
him  was  but  the  ghost  of  Jessamine.  He  bent  above 
her,  searching  in  her  face,  and  fighting  all  the  time 


260  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

against  the  mournful  influences  which  seemed  nipping 
the  heart  out  of  his  courage,  and  his  impulses  of  heal- 
ing and  of  help.  She  turned  suddenly,  and  gazed  at 
him  with  her  dark  eyes. 

"Doctor,  doctor,  doctor!"  was  all  she  said. 

At  which  he  found  himself  forced  to  walk  some 
paces  through  the  room,  oppressed  by  the  distracting, 
desolating  hopelessness  which  infected  him  from  her 
eyes  and  paralyzed  his  resources.  He  did  not  remark 
that  when  he  turned  she  rose  and  followed  him,  cast- 
ing as  she  did  so  many  an  anxious,  flitting  look  upon 
him.  When  he  paused  she  paused  too.  They  stood 
together,  the  slender  woman's  form  against  the  sturdier 
male  shape — the  ever  symbolical  air,  whether  united  by 
love,  friendship,  or  mere  chance  position,  the  world's 
crudest  enigma,  the  two  who  hide  between  them 
secrets  which  forever  they  strive  to  impart  the  one  to 
the  other,  and  have  not  the  power  to  disclose. 

He  was  startled  when  she  touched  his  arm,  and  he 
heard  her  voice  close  beside  him. 

"I  am  not  mad,  doctor,"  said  she;  "my  mind  is 
clear.  I  am  not  mad." 

"No,  no,"  said  he. 

"You  will  help  me?" 

"If  a  man  can.     If  there  be  a  way." 

"There  is  a  way." 

He  placed  his  arm  about  her,  and  led  her  back  to 
the  chair. 

"I  try  to  get  this  look  out  of  my  eyes,"  she  said 
anxiously,  "but  I  am  not  able.  Once  I  tried  to  smile." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  the  lace  and  cashmere  about 
her  throat  and  bosom,  and  looked  at  him, 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  261 

"I  understand,"  said  the  doctor  soothingly;  "I 
know." 

She  shrank  back  against  the  cushions  and  moaned. 
It  was  like  the  moan  of  some  trapped  animal,  and  be- 
yond what  is  human  in  its  despair. 

"Come,  come  now,"  said  Dr.  Cornerstone;  "tell  me 
the  whole  history.  I  am  here  to  help  you.  Do  not  hide 
anything.  Tell  me  the  whole  from  the  beginning." 

"I  shall  hide  nothing  from  you." 

"That  is  well.  I  was  a  little  overcome  at  meeting 
you  again — at  finding  you  in  distress.  But  there's  a 
way  out  of  the  heaviest  trouble,  you  know." 

He  drew  upon  his  resources  of  wholesome  cheeri- 
ness.  Yet  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  hopes  he  threw 
out  fell  with  a  hollow  sound.  In  the  atmosphere  of 
that  room  the  little  lamps,  which  experience,  will,  and 
philosophy  light  for  the  human  soul,  burned  low 
indeed. 

"I  have  lately  seen  that  there  is  a  way — just  one," 
said  she.  "So  far,  for  many  years,  I  thought  that 
there  was  none." 

"Tell  me,"  said  he,  "how  did  you  come  to  make  this 
marriage?" 

"Ah,  why?"  said  she.     "It  is  too  late  now." 

"Too  late?"  he  repeated.  "It  is  never  too  late  to 
pluck  up  will.  We  may  shake  ourselves  free  from  our 
worst  error.  I  do  not  say  without  loss  or  suffering." 

"Is  it  so?"  said  she.  "No;  there  are  errors  which 
are  as  living  nerves,  into  which  we  dare  not  cut." 

"Jessamine,  my  child,  you  overestimate  your  sor- 
row. Your  will  and  strength  are  broken  for  a  time. 
Take  courage.  Tell  me  all." 


262  A   SUPERFLUOUS  WOMAN, 

She  looked  at  him  with  meek  eyes  of  unfathomable 
moveless  grief. 

"Listen,"  said  the  doctor,  apprehension  hurrying  his 
speech:  "you  think — many  women  do — that  a  marriage 
is  an  eternal  thing  which  cannot  be  broken ;  but  that 
is  a  mistake.  We  live  in  the  nineteenth  century  and 
not  in  the  Middle  Ages.  You  can  go  away  to-morrow, 
if  you  wish.  Pluck  up  a  will  and  escape." 

His  own  words  chilled  him  with  an  incomprehensible 
sense  of  missing  the  mark. 

"Is  that  your  way — your  help?"  she  asked. 

"Jessamine,  it  is.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  advise  you  to 
act  as  I  have  said.  This  bond  is  breaking  you.  I  find 
you  crushed.  Moreover,  it  is  a  degradation.  Escape 
from  it.  I  say  that  it  is  the  only  right  step  left  for 
you.  You  had  better  be  a  crossing  sweeper  or  a 
scullery  maid  than  remain  in  this  splendor — set  to 
this  work.  Gather  together  your  resources  of  courage 
and  will.". 

"Escape?"  she  repeated  blankly.  "How  is  that  pos- 
sible? Escape — from  what?" 

'  She  eyed  him  with  perplexity,  as  one  looks  at  a  per- 
son who  introduces  an  irrelevancy. 

"Other  women  have  done  it,"  he  said. 

"Yes.     I  have  wondered,"  was  her  simple  reply. 

The  doctor's  lips  parted  for  speech  and  closed  again. 
An  incredible  idea  stole  into  his  mind. 

"You  do  not  love  this  man?"  he  asked,  after  a  little 
hesitation. 

Something  faintly  rippled  the  settled  mournfulness 
of  her  face;  but  there  was  no  answer.     The  doctor, 
from  experience,  knew  that  a  woman's  heart  has  strange, 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  263 

deep  phases;  he  knew,  too — had  not  Carteret  reminded 
him? — that  the  individual  experience  is  a  charmed 
circle  for  the  individual  sufferer,  and  that  no  human 
help  can  avail  until  the  enchanter  who  lurks  within 
gives  the  signal  of  release. 

"I  think  I  understand,  Jessamine,"  said  he  tenderly; 
"the  thought  of  your  child  keeps  you — now" 

She  cast  a  shrinking,  suspicious  glance  at  him. 

"If  that  be  the  case,"  said  he,  yet  by  no  means  cer- 
tain that  he  had  touched  the  right  chord,  "I  think  you 
ought  to  face  the  suffering.  As  the  law  stands,  it  is 
true  that  the  child  is  the  father's,  and  not  yours.  But 
I  do  not  hesitate  still  to  say  that  it  is  your  plain  duty 
to  separate  from  Heriot — to  resign  a  life  which  is  for 
you  a  degradation." 

He  had  been  noticing  the  slim  white  hands,  laden 
with  rings,  which  lay  in  her  lap.  Faint  suggestions 
came  to  him  from  the  sight  of  them  and  touched  his 
heart.  He  now  remarked  that  the  fingers  twitched 
nervously. 

"The  child!"  she  said,  in  a  low,  quick  voice.  "No, 
no;  it  is  mine  too!  The  responsibility  is  mine  as 
well." 

By  this  time  dusk  had  gathered  in  the  room.  The 
glow  of  the  lamp  beneath  its  red  shade  was  scarcely  an 
illumination.  He  saw  Jessamine  as  a  willowy  figure 
in  white  leaning  back  in  her  chair,  the  dark  hair  against 
the  cushion,  the  pale,  sweet  face  beneath  with  closed 
eyelids,  and  the  slim  hands  moving  nervously  upon  her 
knee.  So  far  he  had  reached  no  further  than  surmise; 
he  must  break  that  mournful  reticence  if  he  could.  He 
had  no  assurance  that  at  present  he  had  found  the  sore. 


264  A    SUPERFLUOUS 

"Tell  me  about  it  from  the  beginning,"  he  said 
firmly;  "give  me  an  account  of  how  you  were  induced 
to  enter  into  this  alliance." 

She  roused  herself  a  little,  and  opened  her  eyes.  He 
thought  that  they  were  always  pondering  some  fixed 
intense  idea. 

"You  wish  me  to  tell  you  about  it?"  she  said. 

"It  will  be  well  that  you  should  do  so.  Was  it  of 
your  own  will?" 

Jessamine  leaned  her  cheek  on  her  hand,  and  seemed 
to  be  thoughtfully  considering. 

"It  is  a  long  time  since  then,"  she  said  slowly  ;  "still, 
I  remember.  There  were  things  in  myself  that  terri- 
fied me — even  then." 

"Yes?"  said  the  doctor. 

"I  recall  a  stupefied  feeling — a  numbness.  I  recall 
feeling  as  though  everything  were  dead — as  though  I 
were  one  of  those  fallen  autumn  leaves  which  the  wind 
blows  where  it  will.  The  wind  that  blew  me  on,  that 
kept  me  moving,  was  just  restlessness — no  more.  I 
had  something  unsatisfied,  hungry,  in  myself— some- 
thing that  kept  driving  me  into  action,  display.  I 
wanted  to  fill — to  fill — what?  There  was  a  hollow 
place  where  my  heart  ought  to  be,  a  burning  confusion 
where  my  thoughts  should  have  been.  There  was 
nothing  to  which  I  cared  to  put  my  life.  I  think  if  I 
had  fallen  into  good  hands  it  would  have  been  better 
with  me.  But  I  came  back  to  my  Aunt  Arabella." 

"Ah!" 

The  doctor's  tone  was  significant. 

"Do  not  blame  Aunt  Arabella,"  said  Jessamine 
gently.  "She  and  I  are  kin.  There  lies  the  root  of 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  265 

the  evil.  What  is  in  her  is  in  me  also.  If  it  had  not  been 
just  so  she  would  have  had  no  power  to  influence  me." 

"Ah!" 

"She  only  interpreted  my  own  self  to  me.  It  was 
that  which  made  the  dreadful  thing  happen." 

"Your  marriage?" 

"No.     Must  I  tell  you  this  also?" 

"I  think  it  best  that  you  should  tell  me  all." 

"It  frightens  me  a  little  to  recall  it,  yet  I  will  tell 
you.  Why  should  you  not  know  me  through  and 
through?" 

"It  is  well  that  you  should  tell  me." 

"She  worked  on  me  when  I  came  back." 

"Came  back  from  where?" 

A  crimson  wave  rushed  to  Jessamine's  pallid  cheek 
and  her  eyes  became  suddenly  suffused  with  tears. 
She  threw  her  hands  before  her  face  with  a  single  hope- 
less sob.  Her  grief  was  intense,  and  yet  the  sight  of  it 
relieved  the  doctor,  because  it  was  the  sharp  natural 
grief  of  a  woman,  and  not  that  strange,  incomprehensi- 
ble despair. 

"Came  back  from  the  thing  that  killed  me,"  said  she 
in  a  loud,  hoarse  whisper. 

"Well,  well!"  said  Dr.  Cornerstone  soothingly. 

"It  does  not  matter  where  I  came  back  from,"  said 
she  when  she  had  recovered  her  more  composed  bear- 
ing. "When  I  returned  I  had  nothing  but  this  feeling 
of  stupefaction,  and — and  as  though  I  had  been  braced 
up  to  something  too  high  for  me — a  sense  of  relief  in 
sinking  back  to  vain,  luxurious  ways.  Aunt  Arabella 
worked  on  this  last." 

"I  can  imagine  it." 


266  A    SUPERFLUOUS 

"I  was  conscious  of  degradation,  yet  had  not  the 
force  to  resist.  I  am  not  sure  that  I  wished.  I  saw, 
without  putting  an  end  to  them,  all  her  devices  about 
Lord  Heriot — my  husband.  The  spring  of  my  desire 
for  goodness  had  dried  up ;  I  had  lost  my  self-respect. 
Nothing  seemed  to  matter.  Such  a  vain  pursuit  of 
such  a  miserable  social  triumph  as  she  placed  before 
me  seemed  all  I  was  fit  for.  But  there  came  a  day 
toward  the  end  when  my  apathy  was  suddenly  fired, 
when  something — I  know  not  what — rushed  over  me. 
She  was  talking  to  me  ;  I  was  listening  or  not  listening, 
as  the  case  may  be.  Then  she  began  to  go  on  and  on 
about  my  beauty.  And  all  along  vanity  in  me — 
vanity — ached  like  a  diseased  nerve.  She  spoke  of 
Lord  Heriot  being  in  doubt  between  me  and  the 
blond  woman,  of  what  people  would  say — were  per- 
haps saying — as  to  my  disappointment.  And  suddenly 
I  seemed  to  feel  my  brain  like  a  spot  of  fire.  Wild 
anger  and  hate  were  in  my  heart.  Hate  against  her 
and  against  myself  for  being  like  her,  and  against 
Society  for  turning  out  such  creatures  as  we  were. 
And  I  wanted  to  end  it  in  a  moment.  I  had  not  any 
clear  thought.  I  felt  as  though  all  the  great  cruel 
wrong,  whether  in  me  or  outside  me,  was  impersonated 
and  stood  before  me  in  the  figure  of  my  aunt.  And  a 
wild  impulse  of  energy  against  it  seized  me,  as  though 
it  were  possible  to  destroy  by  one  blow  the  devil  in 
myself  that  was  tempting  and  dragging  my  life  down. 
At  that  time  I  was  physically  strong  and  vigorous. 
Have  you  ever  felt  the  vanity  of  words  and  the  neces- 
sity of  flinging  out  acts  instead?  Men  do,  I  think; 
but  they  disallow  it  to  women.  Well,  I — / — flung  out 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  267 

at  the  traitor  within,  who  spoke  to  me  by  the  mouth 
of  the  traitor  outside.  I  felt  a  blaze  in  my  brain  and 
a  blaze  in  the  room.  I  don't  know  what  I  did,  but  it 
was  over  in  a  moment,  and  I  sank  back  in  my  chair 
with  every  spark  of  self-respect  dead  within  me.  I  did 
not  know  whether  I  had  hurt,  or  perhaps  even  killed, 
her.  And  I  did  not  care  if  I  were  hanged.  I  sat  there 
looking  away  from  her  as  she  lay  on  the  floor,  and  try- 
ing to  get  my  own  breath  back.  I  think  I  hoped  she 
was  dead,  because  then  the  end  would  come;  for  I  felt 
that  now  I  had  done  this  there  was  no  more  anything 
to  cling  to  or  to  live  for.  I  wished  to  be  put  out  of 
misery.  So  I  sat  looking  away  from  the  heap  on  the 
floor.  But  just  then  we  heard  James  coming,  and  sud- 
denly Aunt  Arabella  sprang  up.  She  looked  dreadful, 
and  the  first  thing  she  did  was  to  rush  to  a  mirror. 
The  one  thing  she  thought  of  was  that  if  James  saw 
her  with  all  her  toilette  spoiled,  he  would  tell.  And 
then  I  perceived  how  complete  was  our  degradation. 
We  were  too  trivial  and  contemptible,  too  shriveled 
and  dead  in  our  souls  even  for  hanging.  And  when 
she  had  got  her  hair  right  and  her  collar  arranged,  and 
was  crouching  in  her  chair,  and  James  had  come  in  to 
put  on  the  coals  and  had  gone  out  again,  I  turned  to 
her  and  said  just  this:  'Aunt  Arabella,  I  will  marry 
Lord  Heriot  as  soon  as  you  like.'  And  at  that  she 
began  to  shiver  and  whimper,  and  thanked  me,  and 
praised  her  god." 

"So,"  said  the  doctor,  "you  knocked  Aunt  Arabella 
down.  And  afterward?" 

"Nothing  that  I  recall  until  one  day  I  woke  up  from 
my  stupor." 


26$  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"That  was  after  your  marriage?" 

"Yes;  months  after.  A  tiny  ray  of  hope — it  was 
scarcely  hope — came  to  me  one  day.  It  was  a  little 
thought — no  more  than  that." 

"Yes?" 

"I  caught  at  it.  You  do  not  know  the  darkness  that 
went  before.  Sometimes  I  think  men  do  not  guess 
what  settles — settles  down  on  a  woman's  heart  when 
she  is  hurt — that  way.  But  suddenly  I  saw  that  it 
was  possible  to  live — a  difficult  life,  but  still  a  life. 
Something — so  small,  so  tiny  a  link  it  was,  but  still  a 
link — came  to  me  out  of  what  I  had  lost." 

"What  had  you  lost?" 

"Hush!  Do  not  ask.  Let  me  tell  you  my  own 
way.  It  was  for  the  sake  of  that  I  strove  to  be  good 
again.  I  realized  that  I  had  married  Lord  Heriot;  I 
thought — '  That  way  my  duty  lies.'  It  was  all  the 
goodness  I  had  ever  learned  about.  I  thought  it 
linked  me  on  to  what  I  had  lost.  And  in  that  idea  I 
lived.  I  woke  up  day  by  day  and  clung  to  it." 

"You  do  not  wish  to  leave  Lord  Heriot?"  said  the 
doctor  perplexedly. 

She  put  out  a  trembling  hand,  and  laid  it  on  his  arm. 

"Wishes  with  me  are  dead,"  said  she;  "I  find  no 
way  save  through  devotion  to  my  duty.  Once  I 
learned  something  better.  I  cling  to  the  thought. 
But  I  see  no  chance  of  faithfulness  to  that  save  faith- 
fulness to  this" 

He  gazed  at  her  with  a  frown  of  perplexity  and 
doubt.  Her  eyes  were  anxious;  she  feared  his  words; 
her  looks  were  weighted  with  deep  questions  which 
she  shrank  from  putting. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  269 

"I  married  him  of  my  own  free  will.  My  eyes 
were  wide  open — wider  than  you  think — than  you 
dream.  I  would  not  quarrel  with  him,  would  not  go 
back  on  my  steps — had  self-respect  enough  to  keep, 
not  break,  this  tie — even  when  I  comprehended  what  it 
meant" 

Her  grasp  tightened  on  his  arm.  She  feared — he 
was  certain  that  she  feared — his  words ;  yet  the  sources 
of  her  dread  were  dark  to  him. 

"One  day,"  said  she,  "the  little  cord  of  hope  to 
which  I  desperately  clung  found  a  fellow.  I  began  to 
dream  of  motherhood." 

"Yes,"  he  said — "yes." 

"Doctor,  did  you  know,  did  you  guess  that  I  had 
that  feeling — that  yearning?" 

"No,"  he  said. 

"It  was  my  strongest  passion,"  she  said;  "even  my 
vanity  was  second  to  that.  I  know  that  it  is  so." 

"It  will  redeem  you,  Jessamine,  my  child,"  he  said. 

She  looked  at  him  with  an  awful  reproach. 

"Ah!"  he  hastened  to  add.  "For  years  you  have 
been  disappointed." 

"Disappointed?"  She  leaned  forward  and  stared 
at  him.  "Disappointed?  Is  that  the  word?  From 
dreaming  over  it  as  a  half  hope,  I  have  come  to  think 
of  it  with  concentrated  horror.  But  I  am  chained — I 
am  chained !" 

"Jessamine,"  he  said,  "I  have  told  you  that  to 
efforts  of  the  will  there  are  no  chains  that  cannot  be 
cast  aside." 

"Death,"  she  said,  "will  release  me — death  alone. 
Death  is  the  solver  of  my  problem,  doctor," 


270  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"It  lies  with  God,"  said  he,  a  sudden  apprehension 
in  his  tone. 

"The  only  way,"  she  said,  "is  death.  I  have  con- 
sidered and  found  it  so  at  last.  What  holds  me  back 
is  cowardice  and — something  further.  Oh,  doctor,  doc- 
tor! Is  it  so  easy,  then?  Death  even  hides  his  face 
at  times  from  me.  Responsibility  holds  me  like  a  vise, 
and  breathes  an  icy  breath  upon  my  heart,  and  kills 
even  that  hope.  I  cannot  yet  resolve  to  leave  my  post 
and  die." 

She  rose,  and,  advancing  to  the  curtain,  stood  hold- 
ing the  folds  back  with  both  hands,  and  looking  at  him 
over  her  shoulder. 

"fs  it  so  easy,  doctor?"  she  repeated.  "Can  we  by 
one  firm  act  undo  our  errors?  They  gather — gather. 
They  strike  root  within.  They  live  without.  Come, 
come!  You  shall  see  the  chains  that  bind  me." 

He  stood  with  her  on  the  threshold  of  a  wide  and 
cheerful  room  toward  which  she  had  led  him.  A 
woman  dressed  as  a  nurse  had  frowningly  objected  to 
his  presence.  She  spoke  of  his  lordship's  strict  com- 
mand, of  the  secrecy  of  years.  Jessamine  with  gentle 
firmness  and  entreaty  broke  through  her  objections. 
And  then  he  stepped  forward,  and  the  secrets  of  the 
House  of  Heriot  lay  before  him.  The  room  he  stood 
in  was  a  nursery ;  there  were  one  or  two  attendants — 
more  than  would  be  naturally  required — and  there 
were  two  children,  aged  respectively,  he  surmised, 
eight  and  six  years. 

He  passed  with  rapid  scrutiny  and  a  horror-stricken 
heart  from  one  to  the  other.  On  those  frail,  tiny 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  271 

forms  lay  heavily  the  heritage  of  the  fathers.  The 
beaten  brows,  the  suffering  eyes,  expiated  in  them- 
selves the  crimes  and  debauchery  of  generations. 

"My  children,"  said  Jessamine,  with  a  look  into  his 
eyes. 

Once,  in  a  confusion  of  horror  and  shock,  he  put  his 
hand  out  to  touch  the  drooping  head  of  the  elder. 
And  then  the  mother  caught  his  fingers,  and  snatched 
it  back. 

"Take  care,"  said  she,  in  a  dull  and  gentle  voice;  "at 
times  she  is  malicious.  That  is  my  boy,"  she  said, 
pointing  to  the  other. 

And  he  saw  a  poor  malformed  thing — a  child  who 
lived  in  pain,  and  whose  eyes  alone  answered  for  him ; 
and  these,  the  doctor  thought,  followed  his  mother  up 
and  down  the  room  with  an  awful  look  of  perpetual 
reproach. 

Subdued  and  gentle,  Jessamine  walked  among  them. 

No  one  spoke.  The  attendants,  with  their  quiet, 
secret  faces,  hung  back  like  jailers. 

The  silence  in  the  nursery  was  scarcely  broken  save 
for  Jessamine's  few  words,  and  the  aimless  scratching 
of  the  idiot  girl's  hand  upon  a  little  table  by  which  she 
sat.  Of  all  the  scenes  of  anguish  upon  which  his  eyes 
had  rested,  this,  in  its  repressed  and  concentrated  hor- 
ror, was  the  most  appalling. 

They  stood  again  in  the  sitting  room.  Dr.  Corner- 
stone's face  was  white  as  a  sheet,  and  he  was  speech- 
less. Jessamine  closed  the  door  behind  the  curtain 
and  locked  it.  Then  she  went  swiftly  to  the  second 
door  and  locked  that  also.  After  that  she  returned  to 


272  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

the  hearth,  where  the  doctor  stood  silent  and  smitten. 
He  could  not  look  her  in  the  face. 

"You  understand  me  now — a  little,"  she  began,  in 
the  same  low,  gentle  voice — the  voice  whose  grief  was 
too  deep  for  outcry.  "I  told  you  that  when  I  waked 
to  understand  my  own  deed  I  accepted  it.  I  took  up 
duty — clung  to  all  I  knew  of  that.  For  the  sake  of 
something  in  the  past — out  of  fear  of  something  in  the 
past — I  made  it  my  aim  to  be  simply  a  true  wife  to  the 
man  I  had  married.  God  knows  that  I  meant  rightly. 
It  was  what  I  had  learned  of  right.  Do  efforts  of 
right-doing  turn  to  fruits  like  those  ?  When  I  saw  and 
understood  the  face  of  my  first  baby — when  the  little 
hope  born  of  dreary  patient  effort  turned  to  that — do 
you  think  I  did  not  have  my  desperate  moment?  But 
there  upon  my  breast  lay  the  child  itself,  breathing 
perpetual  warning.  I  dared  not  stir;  terror  and  hor- 
ror held  me  fast.  I  strove — good  God,  how  pite- 
ously! — to  do,  moment  by  moment,  all  the  duty  and 
the  right  I  knew  of.  I  came  to  think — and  there  were 
reasons  more  than  you  know — that  our  first  child  was 
my  crime,  and  not  his,  my  husband's.  And  a  little 
hope  and  comfort  lived  on.  You  see  the  dreary 
years — the  working  on  in  darkness  and  suspense? 
The  clinging  to  the  only  light  I  knew — oh,  with 
such  desperate  fear!  And  then  the  answer.  Dropped 
so  slowly,  doctor.  The  awful  sameness  of  reply !  My 
God!" 

She  sank  to  the  floor  at  his  feet  in  a  kneeling  posture, 
bending  her  head,  and  crushing  her  hands  against  her 
breast. 

"Jessamine,"  said  the  doctor,  finding  words  for  the 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  273 

first  time,  "was  it  no  crime  to  become  a  mother  by 
that  effete  and  dissipated  race?" 

Whereat  she  straightened  herself  a  little,  kneeling 
more  upright,  and  seizing  his  hand  and  arm,  to  which 
she  clung  convulsively.  She  had  the  look  of  one  on 
whom  a  dreaded  blow  has  fallen. 

"You  say  that,  doctor?" 

"Alas!  what  else  should  I  say?" 

"Kill  me,  then,  "  said  she  sharply ;  "don't  let  me  live 
to  commit  it  any  more.  Give  me  the  means  of  dying, 
so  that  my  baby  does  not  see  the  light  of  day.  I  have 
seen — at  last — that  this  was  the  only  way.  Of  my  own 
will  I  can  do  nothing.  I  am  bound  with  chains.  Give 
me  the  death  which  is  my  only  release." 

"Will  that  undo  the  error?"  cried  the  doctor 
sternly — "that  more  than  desertion?" 

She  caught  her  hands  together,  and  laid  them 
across  her  eyes  and  brows,  and  held  them  there 
while  she  considered.  Then  she  rose  softly  to  her 
feet. 

"You  are  right,"  said  she.  "It  would  be  useless.  I 
was  a  coward  to  think  of  it." 

He  saw  her  standing  for  a  moment  poised  in  thought, 
her  finger  on  her  lips,  her  mind  concentrated  upon  the 
hideous  problem  of  her  own  creation. 

"The  children,"  she  said.  "They  live  on  and  on — 
when  I  am  gone." 

He  stood  silent ;  words  would  be  fatuous;  his  uttered 
phrases  struck  him  now  as  cruel ;  he  was  without 
resources. 

She  with  her  facile,  undisciplined  brain — untaught, 
unguided — set  to  this  torturing  riddle,  face  to  face 


274  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

with  a  situation  so  awful  and  supreme !  He  was  silent 
indeed. 

She  looked  up  presently  with  dark,  interrogating 
eyes,  and  pointed  a  question  swiftly. 

"You  believe  in  will,  doctor?" 

"In  will?    Assuredly." 

"Ah,  then — ah,  then!  You  are  right.  In  will. 
The  only  safe  way  is  from  within,  outward.  From 
within" 

She  repeated  it  slowly  and  emphatically,  bowing  her 
head  as  she  did  so. 

She  approached,  and  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his 
arm. 

"Do  you  know,  doctor " 

"Yes?    What?" 

"The  crime — I  think  you  called  it  so — came  from 
within." 

"Alas !  poor  woman  !" 

"You  said  it  was  a  crime?  You  are  right.  I  see  it. 
A  crime  /" 

Her  eyes  darkened,  concentrated,  and  the  brows 
contracted  as  in  strong  mental  effort. 

"Crimes  come  from  within"  she  repeated. 

"All  is  not  lost,"  murmured  the  doctor. 

"Because,"  said  she  with  sudden  energy,  speaking  in 
a  loud  whisper,  and  tightening  her  grasp  upon  his  arm, 
"I  will  cancel  it — from  within.  I  will  repudiate  it — 
reject  it — from  within.  If  there  is  a  crime,  I  will  not 
connive  at  it.  I  will  throw  myself  on  the  side  against 
it.  I  myself  will  annul  it.  I  shall  will — and  will — 
and  will.  God  himself  shall  side  with  me,  and  Fate 
be  forced  to  have  mercy !" 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  275 

She  paused,  sighed,  raised  her  arms  high  above  her 
head,  and  looked  up. 

"I  beat  with  my  willing  against  the  very  door  of 
heaven.  I  will  tear  my  wish  out  of  the  center  of 
things,"  she  cried.  "Who  has  a  right  to  his  will  if  not 
I?  And  I  shall  win  it!  There  is  nothing,"  she  said, 
"stronger  than  a  mother." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

DR.  CORNERSTONE  sat  in  Lord  Heriot's  dining 
room ;  his  wine  remained  untasted  beside  him ;  he 
leaned  his  elbow  on  the  table  and  his  head  on  his 
hand,  and  fixed  his  eyes  thoughtfully  on  the  figure  of 
his  host. 

There  was  ample  opportunity  for  observation.  Lord 
Heriot  was  asleep.  He  had  fallen  asleep  upon  his 
chair,  the  table  napkin  spreading  over  one  knee,  his 
hands  dangling,  and  his  legs  crossed,  the  dainty  shoe 
being  pointed  stiffly  and  with  singular  aimlessness 
upward.  His  immaculate  shirt  front,  with  the  dia- 
mond sparkles  at  regular  intervals,  hooped  outward, 
and  his  head — the  hair  most  carefully  tended — nodded 
sideways. 

"The  best  valeted  man  I  ever  beheld!"  said  the 
doctor. 

All  that  the  tailor  and  a  priceless  personal  attendant 
could  do  had  been  done  to  turn  Lord  Heriot  into  a 
reputable  figure  of  a  man.  If  starch,  fine  cloth,  and 
shaving  could  have  erased  the  traces  of  a  past,  that 
past  would  have  vanished  under  the  applications  as 
completely  as  breath  on  a  well-rubbed  mirror.  But 
Lord  Heriot's  past  was  a  long  one;  it  did  not  begin 
with  himself.  There  had  been  a  sameness  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  Heriots  for  generations;  it  was  varied  only 
by  the  differences  in  manifestation  caused  by  the 

276 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  277 

different  tastes  and  fashions  of  the  time.  The  lines  of 
the  resulting  contour  cut  deep.  Violence  and  exces- 
sive animation  in  the  first  instance — the  unabashed 
and  muscular  tiger  who  founded  the  family — had,  in 
the  inevitable  processes  of  time,  degenerated  into 
meanness,  irritation,  and  vice  in  such  members  as  did 
not  reap  their  heritage  in  insanity,  disease,  and  shock- 
ing malformation. 

That  the  Heriots  had  survived  at  all  was  the  result 
of  the  extraordinary  advantages  in  sick  nursing  which 
wealth  had  permitted  them  to  enjoy — that  is,  the  hot- 
bed fostering  and  care  which  go  to  cherish  an  enfeebled 
stock.  That  cause  and  one  other  had  prevented  their 
natural  extinction,  the  other  cause  being  the  alliances 
into  which  their  wealth  and  titles  had  tempted  Eng- 
land's fair  daughters  from  time  to  time.  For  genera- 
tions the  Heriots  had  purchased  handsome  women  as 
wives  in  much  the  same  way  as  an  Eastern  despot 
buys  the  inmates  of  his  harem.  Had  it  not  been  for 
these  two  measures  the  family  would  have  died  out  as 
quickly  as  the  generations  of  the  vicious  are  said  to 
perish  in  the  slums  of  London.  And  in  effect  the 
force  of  the  original  cause  had  by  this  time  over- 
mastered the  antidotes,  and  the  natural  doom  had 
reached  them,  settling  upon  the  present  representative 
in  a  horror  which  appeared  to  him  inexplicable. 

While  he  slept  Dr.  Cornerstone  watched  him.  In 
imagination  he  took  this  instance  of  the  unfortunate 
semi-criminal  loafer  and  placed  him  in  the  position 
that  suited  his  capacity — subtracting  him,  that  is,  from 
the  House  of  Lords  and  setting  him  down  in  the  casual 
ward.  Thus  clothed  upon  by  circumstance  and  rags, 


2?  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

he  presented  to  the  eye  of  the  mind  a  consistent 
image. 

Suddenly  the  sleeping  nobleman  awakened  ;  his  eyes 
opened  in  an  empty  stare  upon  a  world  of  which  the 
uppermost  reminiscence  was  of  jaded  appetite  and 
ennui.  Catching  sight  of  the  doctor,  troubled  recollec- 
tion passed  into  his  face,  while  his  hand  betrayed  him 
by  seeking  the  decanter;  but  he  recalled  the  action, 
snatching  back  his  fingers,  and  turning  his  head  nerv- 
ously aside,  the  consciousness  of  temptation  being  writ 
in  his  eye  and  profile,  as  in  a  dog's  face  one  may  see 
the  consciousness  of  a  forbidden  bone. 

The  doctor  still  perplexed  him  by  his  watchful 
glance,  and  at  last  uneasiness  waked  him  up  com- 
pletely, so  that  he  sat  upright  on  his  chair. 

"Beg  pardon,  doctor,"  said  he  confusedly.  "Been 
having  forty  winks,  I'm  afraid.  Trouble.  Sleepless 
nights." 

He  opened  his  red,  pale-lashed  lids  and  stared  before 
him  at  misery.  In  truth,  there  were  causes  and  to 
spare  for  desolating  reflection.  A  sort  of  whirlwind 
had  passed  over  the  House  of  Heriot  during  late  past 
months,  and  if  the  confused  mind  of  the  master  was 
still  capable  of  entertaining  a  ray  of  hope,  it  was  apt 
to  be  obscured  or  hunted  down  by  images  of  terror. 
The  truth  was  that  the  secret  chambers  of  the  mansion 
were  empty  and  open  now.  In  one  moment  of  fierce 
horror  the  brood  concealed  therein  had  destroyed 
itself,  the  hand  of  the  idiot  girl  having  been  lifted  sud- 
denly and  dexterously  against  her  helpless  brother. 
After  the  event  the  fair  mother  had  sunk  into  a  condi- 
tion of  mental  and  physical  collapse  from  which  she 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  279 

had  not  yet  revived.  As  to  the  noble  lord  himself, 
only  one  form  of  collapse  was  possible,  to  which  he 
immediately  betook  himself;  the  restraining,  guiding 
hand  of  his  wife  being  withdrawn,  the  careful  artifice  of 
his  reformation  tumbled  to  pieces,  and  in  her  enforced 
absence  he  plunged  into  every  downward-tending  con- 
solation which  his  diseased  taste  could  devise.  Just  at 
this  moment,  when  he  sat  under  the  doctor's  eyes  star- 
ing at  misery,  his  conscience  crept  with  memories  and 
superstitious  foreboding. 

"Not  been  called  yet,  doctor,  then?"  said  he  pres- 
ently, rousing  himself  and  recollecting  that  he  was 
a  Heriot  and  noble. 

"Not  yet,"  was  the  obvious  reply. 

The  doctor's  tone  was  gentle ;  this  was  not  a  case 
for  abuse;  his  sympathetic  finger  was,  as  it  were,  on 
the  pulse  of  that  dim  bit  of  humanity  before  him. 

"Is  there  any  chance?"  asked  Heriot,  setting  forth 
his  importunate  hope  in  a  nervous  question. 

"What  of,  my  lord?"  returned  the  doctor. 

"You  know,"  replied  the  other  after  a  sulky  pause — 
"you  know  what  I  want." 

The  doctor  made  no  answer.  The  man's  willing  and 
desiring  was  too  lamentable  a  spectacle  in  the  face  of 
the  universe. 

"It's  deuced  hard  on  a  man  to  be  thwarted  in  his 
ambition  'and  wishes,"  went  on  Heriot,  the  flood  of 
complaining  being  loosed.  "I  seem  singled  out  for 
misfortune.  And  yet  all  I  ask  to  make  things  com- 
plete is  an  heir  to  my  name." 

"Yes,"  said  the  doctor;  "you  seem  singled  out  for  a 
particular  misfortune." 


280  A  SUPERFLUOUS  WOMAN. 

Lord  Heriot  took  the  reply  for  encouragement.  He 
had  ideas  to  lay  before  the  doctor;  they  seemed  to 
him  an  imposing  logical  array,  if  only  he  could  get  the 
right  one  uppermost.  He  took  a  silver  fruit  knife  and 
beat  with  it  upon  the  table  to  aid  his  speech. 

"I  want,"  said  he — "I  want  her  ladyship  to  pluck  up 
heart  and  courage.  I  tell  her  it  rests  with  her." 

He  glanced  up  cunningly  to  see  if  he  had  said  some- 
thing impressive.  The  doctor,  gazing  at  him  with 
quiet,  speculative  eyes,  was  striving  to  draw  from  his 
appearance  a  further  clew  to  Jessamine's  mysterious 
faithfulness. 

What  hidden  argument  sufficed  to  hold  the  wife  to 
her  unloved  bond,  to  make  her  to  this  diseased  and 
ineffective  creature  a  miracle  of  self-sacrificing  patience? 

Receiving  no  answer  from  his  silent  guest,  Lord 
Heriot  drew  out  his  handkerchief  and  mopped  the 
moisture  from  his  brow. 

"Lady  Heriot  has  been  a  good  wife,  doctor,"  said  he 
querulously;  "I've  nothing  to  say  against  her.  I 
wouldn't  have  anything  happen  to  her  for  half  my 
fortune.  When  I  married  her  she  was  a  pack  of 
whims;  but  I  liked  that.  It's  wonderful  how  she 
changed  after.  Steadied,  you  know.  Well,  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  she  set  herself  to  reform  me.  Hee! 
hee!" 

He  rose  a  little  in  his  chair,  tilted  the  knife  up,  and 
lifted  his  other  hand  with  the  weakly  spreading  fingers, 
and  showed  his  teeth  in  a  mirthless  laugh  at  the  doc- 
tor. The  latter  pursued  his  silent  observation. 

"'I'm  not  given  to  sermons  myself,"  continued  the 
noble  lord,  dropping  back  to  an  unbraced  attitude; 


A  SUPERFLUOUS  WOMAN.  281 

"don't  like  them.  But  when  it's  a  pretty  woman 
preaches!  Eh?  Don't  you  know?" 

His  watery  eye,  seeking  sideways  for  sympathy  in 
the  looser  suggestions  of  his  mind,  came  in  contact 
with  the  doctor's  collected  mien. 

"I  give  you  my  word,  I  haven't  tired  of  her  yet. 
Come!  Nine  years!"  he  jerked  out  in  a  burst  of  con- 
fidence, the  man  within  him  appealing  to  what  he  con- 
jectured of  the  man  over  there. 

"N — no?"  said  the  doctor,  with  uncommitting  cau- 
tion. 

"Fact!"  returned  the  other. 

He  drew  together  the  sides  of  his  dress  coat  and 
absently  fastened  the  bottom  button ;  while  he  con- 
templated this  unusual  instance  a  faint  surprise  at  its 
existence  in  himself  rose  to  a  noticeable  sensation.  It 
gave  weight  to  his  following  disclosures. 

"Look  here,"  said  he  mysteriously,  "I  knew  you 
kneiv  /  She  told  me.  Well,  I  didn't  want  a  scandal. 
See?  Kept  it  all  deuced  dark.  That  is  why  I  sent 
straight  for  you  when  the  crash  came.  Now,  look 
here,"  he  repeated,  opening  one  hand — the  fingers 
widespread — and  laying  the  tip  of  the  other  upon  it  to 
indicate  the  logical  force  of  his  conclusions,  "I  don't 
pretend  to  be  a  religious  man ;  but  I  believe  in  a  thing 
or  two.  I  believe  in  Providence.  And  when  I  see  how 
at  one  stroke  Providence  cleared  away  the  whole  diffi- 
culty, swept  the  place  clean  of  trouble,  I  feel  myself  to 
be  specially  marked  out  for — something  or  another. 
Do  you  see?  I  believe  in  Providence.  It  would  be 
ungrateful  not  to  trust  for  the  best.  What  did  he 
make  a  clean  sweep  of  things  for?  Why,  that  we 


282  A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN. 

might  begin  afresh,  of  course.  I  don't  pretend  to  be  a 
religious  man,  or  claim  more  than  I  should.  But 
that's  how  I  look  at  things." 

He  pulled  his  waistcoat  down,  and  stretched  his  dim 
eyes  at  his  guest,  making  them  into  points  of  watery 
light.  God  !  how  the  face  was  marred  !  What  fright- 
ful excess  was  written  all  over  it,  what  bestial  mem- 
ories! Where  had  he  been  during  the  months  that  his 
wife  lay  ill  upstairs?  Again,  the  doctor  saw  by  infer- 
ence the  martyred  patience  of  the  woman  who  had 
borne  the  chains  of  the  marriage  she  had  made  during 
the  nine  years  of  which  he  boasted. 

The  powerful  concentrated  gaze  which  Heriot's 
attempt  at  a  steady  look  encountered  seemed  to  swal- 
low it  up.  He  did  not  know  whether  his  disordered 
soul  had  touched  on  comfort  or  not.  His  eyes  wan- 
dered off  shiftily  and  nervously,  the  feeble  lids  flutter- 
ing with  weak  apprehension.  He  started  off  on  a  new 
topic. 

"Yes;  she  took  me  in  hand,"  he  began.  "A  power- 
ful mind,  doctor — a  powerful  mind."  He  shook  his 
head  sagely.  "I  assure  you" — here  he  stretched  his 
spreading  fingers  over  the  table  confidentially — "since 
our  eldest  was  born  I've  been  a  reformed  man — that  is, 
to  be  accurate,  until  lately.  She  regularly  talked  me 
over — frightened  me  a  bit,  1  don't  mind  saying.  I  was 
deuced  cut  up  when  they  told  me  the  girl  wasn't  right. 
But  she  bore  it  like  an  angel;  got  me  to  promise  all 
sorts  of  things — regularly  took  me  in  hand.  You'd  not 
think  a  man  like  I  am — experienced,  you  know,  doc- 
tor— could  be  talked  over  by  a  woman.  Well,  I  was. 
Don't  mind  owning  up,  either." 


A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN.  283 

He  rubbed  his  mouth  with  the  table  napkin,  and 
flicked  an  imaginary  crumb  off  his  knee.  Though 
silent  for  the  moment,  his  lips  were  parted  as  though 
the  babbling  of  his  fragmentary  thought  could  scarcely 
be  retained.  The  massive  silence  of  the  doctor  shook 
speech  out  of  him  as  no  questioning  could  have  done. 

"If  the  brain  of  the  woman  had  but  matched  this 
extraordinary  power  of  endurance,  the  magnitude  of 
this  conception  of  duty!"  thought  the  doctor. 

"Well,  I  don't  mind  saying  it  over  again,"  babbled 
Heriot;  "she  fair  frightened  me.  She's  not  the  bully- 
ing kind,  you  know,  doctor,  or,  by  Jove  !  I'd  have  made 
her  feel  it" — a  curious  impress  of  his  tigerish  ancestor 
crept  out  on  to  his  mean  face.  "No;  Lady  Heriot  is 
the  right  sort — gets  hold  of  a  man  the  right  way. 
Pretty  woman,  too — though  I  say  it  that  shouldn't. 
And  I  promised  her  there  and  then.  I  promised  her, 
if  she'd  help  me  to  keep  to  it,  and — and — be  good  to  a 
fellow." 

Here  he  wept  into  his  handkerchief,  falling  suddenly 
into  an  access  of  grief.  A  slight  frown  wrinkled  the 
doctor's  forehead.  He  had  a  shrewd  idea  that  this 
trickling  of  tears  was  as  much  induced  by  feeble 
remorse  as  anything  else,  and  Heriot  presently  con- 
firmed the  impression.  He  stammered  out  his  wretched 
confessions;  they  comprised  along  history  of  resolu- 
tions, which  in  themselves  it  was  a  shame  to  have 
made,  but  some  of  which,  under  the  assiduous  care  of 
Jessamine,  it  appeared  he  had  kept  until  the  illness 
induced  by  shock  removed  her  from  his  side.  Oh, 
then,  indeed,  he  had  gayly  plunged! 

Every  confession  of  the  wretched  man  was  accom- 


284  A   SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN. 

panied  by  praise  of  the  woman  whose  commiserating 
care  had  availed  to  drag  him  out  of  his  more  con- 
spicuous wallowings,  and  to  place  him  even  so  far 
on  clean,  firm  ground  as  he  had  reached — before, 
that  is,  her  withdrawal  lent  him  the  opportunity  to 
relapse. 

"I'm  not  fit  for  her,  you  know,  doctor — by  Gad  I'm 
not!  But  I  mustn't  lose  her.  You  must  see  to  that, 
you  know.  Only  set  her  on  her  legs  again,  and  give 
me  my  heir — an  heir  to  the  name  of  Heriot,  you  know, 
doctor,"  he  continued,  with  fatuous  and  grotesque 
pride — "and  I'll  show  what  I  can  do  in  the  way  of 
reforming." 

The  doctor's  frowning  silence  continued.  The 
important  thing  was  not  that  Heriot  should  reform, 
but  that  he  and  his  race  should  pass  into  annihilation. 
Virtue  itself  meets  some  too  late,  and  the  best  to  be 
hoped  for  is  painless  extinction.  But  that  the  pale, 
exhausted  woman  upstairs  should  have  pursued 
through  such  dark  and  fetid  ways  for  years  a  quest  so 
useless  wrung  the  doctor's  heart  and  amazed  his  intelli- 
gence. What  force  had  not  been  expended  in  kind- 
ling the  tiny  rushlight  spark  to  which  the  titled 
loafer  confessed?  What  paths  of  horror  had  she  not 
traversed  in  hunting  after  his  worthless  soul?  What 
motive  lent  the  impulse  to  a  spiritual  expenditure  so 
enormous? 

"Brain,"  said  the  doctor  to  himself — "  brain  is  want- 
ing. This  meaningless  strength  and  sweetness  excru- 
ciate the  heart  that  contemplates  them." 

As  to  the  wretched  creature  before  him,  hardness 
and  contempt  were  scarcely  possible.  In  the  awful 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOAIAN.  285 

degeneration  of  the  race  of  Heriot,  a  depth  too  low 
had  been  reached  for  even  the  tonic  kick  of  mankind. 
Besides,  mingled  though  it  was  with  grotesque  vanity 
and  selfishness,  the  sincerity  of  the  broken  creature's 
attachment  to  his  wife  was  evident,  and  turned  aside 
severity. 

His  lordship,  copiously  weeping  into  the  fine  cambric 
handkerchief,  scarcely  seemed  to  expect  a  reply  to  his 
asseverations.  He  possibly  did  not  remark  the  doc- 
tor's silence.  Regaining  his  composure,  he  sat  quiet, 
turning  his  weakened  face  sideways,  and  contemplat- 
ing presumedly  bleared  images  of  his  own  creation. 

When  at  last  the  doctor  rose  to  go,  he  also  sprang 
from  his  seat,  and,  nervously  seizing  his  guest's  hand, 
broke  into  an  explosion  of  incoherent  murmurs. 

"Do  your  best  for  me,  doctor,"  said  he  in  a  helpless 
appeal,  feeling  that  his  moment  had  surely  arrived,  but 
that  Providence  was,  after  all,  capable  of  scuttling  off 
in  a  base  desertion,  and  that  in  the  strong  hand  of  a 
friendly  man  was  his  final  trust.  "Any  pay,  doc- 
tor!" continued  he,  appealing  now  to  mammon.  "I'm 
inclined  to  think  the  other  fellows  bungled.  Do  your 
best." 

The  doctor  pressed  the  wretched  man's  hand 
quietly,  pity  and  loathing  meting  out  his  heart  about 
equally  between  them.  Then  he  turned  toward  the 
door. 

Heriot  sank  down  on  his  knees  by  the  table  in  a 
whimpering  access  of  uncontrollable  grief  and  fear. 

"Don't  be  long,  doctor!"  he  cried;  "help  me — I 
mean  her.  It's — it's — an  important  moment.  By 
Gad  !  if  we  fail  this  time !  Heir.  Delicate  female/' 


286  A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAX. 

His  words  scattered  themselves  off  into  sobs.  The 
doctor  looked  back  for  a  moment  at  the  spectacle. 
Even  Jessamine's  singular  faithfulness  could  not  endow 
this  titled  loafer  with  any  halo. 

"He  has  been  drinking  badly — badly,"  said  the  doc- 
tor to  himself  as  he  closed  the  door  behind  him. 
"He'll  rot  down  to  the  grave  in  six  months." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A  SMALL  rim  of  safety  and  an  abyss  below.  The 
terror  of  that  abyss  was  still  in  her  heart ;  but  a  hand, 
rough  and  sudden,  had  plucked  her  thence  and  thrown 
her  to  this  edge. 

So  it  seemed  to  Jessamine. 

She  still  feared  what  lay  below.  Down  there  they 
had  pinned  her  to  a  place  of  torture  in  the  center  of  a 
whirl  of  fire  and  noise.  There  were  shapes  and  cries, 
regiments  of  creatures,  waves  of  fire,  and  wide  shout- 
ing mouths  with  fangs  that  darted  out  and  fastened  on 
her  heart.  But  the  great  dread  was  that  which  lay 
behind. 

Somewhere  beyond  that  wheel  of  discord  and  suf- 
fering lurked  a  shadow — small,  still  insignificant,  but 
containing  within  itself  monstrous  possibilities.  The 
consciousness  of  this  was  worse  than  the  sharpness  of 
the  severest  pain ;  it  lay  like  a  stone,  black  and  heavy, 
dropped  through  space  from  a  distant  star — something 
that  was  meant  for  her,  which  lay  still  enough  now, 
but  which  the  pressure  of  a  myriad  miles  was  not  suffi- 
cient to  hold  down. 

That  was  the  horrible,  uneasy  dread.  Suppose  the 
thing  moved,  or  grew,  or  uttered  sounds?  Her  heart, 
bare  to  those  other  fangs,  trembled  at  this  surmise  with 
unutterable  fear.  The  dread  was  secret  too;  she 
stifled  it,  kept  it  down,  looked  away  from  it,  dared  not 


288  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

protect  herself  or  confess  her  horror,  lest  she  should 
arouse  the  treacherous  shade.  And  yet,  while  holding 
her  fear  at  bay,  she  knew  it  was  in  vain. 

Little  by  little  the  tiny  murmur  began — a  low,  fatal 
whisper,  full  of  foreboding.  Through  all  the  nearer 
clamor  it  reached  her  ear. 

And,  then,  did  it  not  grow?  So  small,  so  shapeless, 
and  so  dim,  it  waxed  and  increased !  With  averted 
eyes  and  an  agony  of  will  she  denied  that  it  was  so ; 
said  it  lay  still  and  tiny  and  harmless;  was  but  a  stone 
and  nothing  more. 

Little  by  little  the  murmur  increased,  and  the  shape 
became  greater.  Her  heart  was  cold  with  apprehen- 
sion;  her  blood  ran  ice;  her  nerves  crept  and  quivered. 
While  the  whirl  of  fire  went  round  and  the  fangs  fast- 
ened on  her,  that  murmur  gathered  volume,  that  shape 
heaped  on  vastness,  until  the  heaven  itself  grew  black. 

Then  it  moved !  Now  her  secret  dread  was  held  at 
bay  no  longer.  It  turned  to  frantic  panic.  Better  sur- 
render to  the  fire  and  the  whirl  and  the  fangs  than 
await  that  treacherous  horror  beyond.  For  she  knew, 
she  knew!  All  that  mountain  of  dismay  had  been 
gathering  through  ages  for  her  and  her  alone.  She 
was  the  object,  the  victim.  It  came  to  claim  her — on 
and  on — slowly ;  then  more  swiftly ;  and  at  last  with 
bounds. 

With  it  drew  onward  the  murmur,  and  this  altered 
as  it  neared,  and  formed  a  word — a  single  word,  that 
would  break  over  her  in  a  clash  like  thunder,  and  let 
some  dreaded  secret  into  her  ears. 

Defend  her  against  that  word  ! 

The  Thing  overshadowed  her!     It  had  wings  and 


.-/    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  289 

eyes  and  claws  that  fastened  on  her  heart.  And  then 
she  understood.  It  was  the  outward  embodiment  of 
what  she  hid  within.  The  Thing  knew  about  the  nerve 
of  nerves,  the  hidden,  sensitive  fiber,  the  secret  place. 
It  was  part  of  that,  the  inevitable,  necessary  conse- 
quence. As  she  had  nursed  the  one  into  being,  the 
other — black  and  horrible  treachery — had  been  coming 
too  ;  it  intimately  belonged  to  her,  it  had  an  irresistible, 
irrevocable  claim.  The  citadel  of  citadels  was  open  to 
that  ill-omened  shade  ;  that  was  its  place  ;  no  remotest 
corner  was  safe  or  could  be  safe  from  its  rifling  beak  ; 
bars  and  defenses,  will  itself,  were  vain. 

It  was  close  upon  her.  She  felt  it  swooping  down 
with  wings  and  claws.  Horror  and  black  darkness 
overwhelmed  her.  Yet  she  turned  to  defy  it.  She 
fought  the  demon  with  puny  hands  of  unimaginable 
despair,  clutching  the  red  throat  open  at  her.  She 
would  stifle  the  spoken  word,  choke  it  in  the  utterance, 
break  it  off  though  the  talons  slew^her.  Heavens!  how 
she  dreaded  that  word,  how  the  idea  of  the  unknown 
Thing  appalled  her!  There!  A  wrench!  A  crash 
like  thunder  in  her  ears!  A  shriek  that  tore  the  sky! 
A  horrible  moment !  And  then,  when  all  was  lost,  the 
mighty  hand — rough  but  merciful — snatching  her  away 
to  toss  her  here  apart  on  the  narrow  rim  of  safety. 

Hell  was  over. 

She  lay  still.  A  sound  like  the  tramping  of  depart- 
ing armies,  the  rustle  and  beating  of  hundreds  of 
wings,  was  all  she  heard.  The  orderly,  regular  tread, 
the  shiver  in  the  air  above.  But  the  sound  lessened 
and  sank  to  a  quiet,  distant  hum.  After  the  terror 
there  was  peace, 


290  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"Jessamine !" 

Whose  was  the  voice?  It  came  from  an  unimagina- 
ble distance.  Must  she,  indeed,  arise  already?  Ah, 
yes!  She  was  too  near  the  abyss.  The  Thing  might 
overtake  her  yet.  That  rim  of  safety  was  a  small 
shelf,  from  which  she  might  fall  back.  Besides,  did 
she  not  know  that  a  journey  lay  before  her,  and  that 
the  way  was  long  and  the  time  too  short?  Moreover, 
what  was  the  Secret?  The  Word  that  crashed  in  her 
ears  was  overpowered  by  sound,  the  meaning  lost  in 
thunder.  She  must  seek  it  yet,  seek  and  find  it  for 
herself.  She  no  longer  dreaded  it ;  it  was  the  way  she 
dreaded,  the  going  thither  where  the  Secret  lay  hid. 
Her  feet  were  lead,  her  limbs  like  those  of  a  corpse, 
her  hands  feeble.  Yet  she  must  go ;  the  Way  lay  be- 
fore her.  How  terrible !  how  weary !  An  upright 
series  of  enormous  steps,  cloudlike,  rough-hewn,  with 
no  apparent  ending.  That  was  the  Way.  Weak  and 
beaten,  up  those  she  must  climb  and  cling  until  she 
reached  the  summit. 

Her  feeble  limbs  essayed  the  fearsome  progress. 
With  leaden,  aching  efforts,  with  nerveless  hands, 
stumbles,  and  hair-breadth  escapes,  on  and  on  she 
pressed,  clinging,  climbing,  dragging  herself  on  hands 
and  knees,  and  this  for  ages.  On  and  on  till  Time  was 
gray.  Then  invisible  hands  raised  her,  and  the  effort 
was  over. 

There  was  a  Plain,  wide  and  desolate,  and  full  of 
twilight.  Afar  off  lay  a  range  of  mountains.  It  was 
there  that  the  Secret  would  be  found;  and  miles  and 
days  of  weary  journeying  lay  between.  She  sat  alone 
and  mourned,  her  head  in  her  breast ;  she  drew  the  veil 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  291 

closer  about  her  face  and  sorrowed.  It  was  because 
of  those  whom  she  knew  would  pass  by ;  because  of 
the  steps  that  were  coming  and  the  eyes  that  pressed 
toward  her.  Fain  would  she  hide  from  those  eyes. 

Behind  lay  a  Vista  of  the  Ages — the  Ages  of  the 
future  and  the  unborn.  Faces,  little  faces,  came  up 
from  them ;  her  ears  were  full  of  the  tread  of  little 
feet ;  little  hands  clutched  at  the  veil  and  dragged  it 
from  her;  eyes,  the  eyes  of  unborn  children,  looked  at 
her  with  an  awful  reproach.  They  came  and  touched 
her  with  cold  hands,  and  looked  and  passed.  Little 
feet  and  little  hands  and  eyes  that  were  dreadful. 
Each  had  the  eyes  of  her  suffering  boy;  each  had  the 
impress  of  her  husband. 

She  rose  and  tottered  on.  Tears  rained  down  her 
cheeks.  By  her  side  walked  another  Shape — some- 
thing unknown,  yet  intimate.  She  had  no  fear,  but 
knew  not  who  it  was.  Her  hand  was  locked  in  that 
other's.  And  she  heard  the  tread  of  little  feet  before 
her,  yet  saw  nothing. 

"The  children!"  she  said,  "the  children!  I  am 
smitten  by  the  eyes  of  children!" 

They  toiled  on  toward  the  mountains. 

And  suddenly  there  fronted  her  the  walls,  as  it  were, 
of  a  City  with  Gates  in  the  midst.  And  this  she 
neared ;  but  always  before  ran  the  sound  of  little  feet 
hurrying. 

"The  children  have  gone  first,"  she  said,  "bearing 
their  accusation.  They  carry,"  she  said,  "my  sins — 
my  crime !" 

She  would  have  fled  and  turned  back.  Fear  of  the 
children  overpowered  her.  Fear  of  the  little  cold 


29 2  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

hands,  of  the  feet  that  made  such  haste  before,  of  the 
eyes  that  told  so  much !  But  her  palm  was  pressed  by 
iron  fingers. 

"That  is  fate!"  said  she. 

The  Gates  swing  back  before  them,  and  she  saw  a 
light  beyond. 

"Is  it  over?"  she  said.     "Am  I  dead?" 

"Dead,"  said  a  voice  close  to  her  ear. 

Dr.  Cornerstone  stood  by  the  bedside  of  the  ex- 
hausted woman,  watching  her  face  anxiously. 

What  he  saw  was  a  marble-white  countenance,  with 
pinched,  worn  features,  lying  like  a  carved  ivory  wedge 
between  two  heavy  curtains  of  flowing,  disheveled 
hair.  The  white  lids  and  long  dark  lashes  hid  the 
eyes,  and  only  by  the  tiny,  labored,  whistling  breath 
did  he  know  she  lived.  The  hand,  slim,  feeble,  in 
a  strangely  tired  attitude,  lay  outside  the  coverlet. 
Every  now  and  then  he  took  the  unresisting  wrist  in 
his  and  laid  his  finger  on  the  pulse. 

So  still  she  lay,  so  nerveless  and  beaten,  with  so 
much  the  look  of  a  creature  that  has  abdicated  from 
her  place  and  resigned  all  effort — the  hand  itself  aban- 
doning its  toil — that  from  hour  to  hour  he  could  hardly 
have  said  whether  she  lived  or  not.  How  should  he 
know  the  agony  of  effort  through  which  the  poor  soul 
passed,  the  torment,  and  the  weary  expiation?  Not 
all  his  insight  and  his  sympathy  could  teach  him.  He 
saw  only  the  small,  worn  face  lying  between  the  masses 
of  the  hair  that  tumbled  over  the  pillow. 

From  watching  her  he  directed  his  attention  else- 
where, His  patient  lay  in  a  spacious  room  which 


A   SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN'.  293 

opened  to  an  ante-chamber.  It  was  night,  and  the 
curtains  were  drawn.  The  fire  and  the  lamps  brought 
everything  to  a  beautiful  subdued  glow,  and  the  quiet 
of  a  perfectly  appointed  sick  room  was  only  broken  by 
the  sound  of  the  fire  and  the  hum  of  a  kettle.  On  the 
hearth  sat  a  young  woman  in  the  dress  of  a  nurse,  her 
quiet  face  turned  to  the  glow.  She  sat — significant 
fact — with  idle  hands. 

A  young  but  experienced  nurse  she  was,  with  an 
aptitude  for  difficult  cases,  who  attended  Jessamine  for 
the  first  time. 

The  doctor  walked  toward  her.  She  rose  respect- 
fully, yet,  as  it  were,  tempering  her  subordination  with 
a  sense  of  merit.  • 

"She  will  do  for  the  moment,"  he  said;  "but  I  shall 
remain  until  I  see  clearer  signs  of  consciousness." 

A  little  hurt  dignity  flecked  her  cheek.  She  knew 
so  well  her  own  capacity,  was  so  ready  for  emergen- 
cies! Indeed,  in  sudden  difficult  moments  she  was 
sure  that  she  excelled.  A  hundred  instances  rose  to 
her  mind. 

"Certainly,  Dr.  Cornerstone,"  she  replied  with  studi- 
ous gentleness;  "but  in  any  case  I  should  know  how 
to  evade  her  questions.  I  have  had  cases  before  where 
tact  was  called  for." 

"Just  so,"  said  the  doctor  absently,  and  passed  on. 

The  nurse  rose  and  hovered  near  the  bed,  deftly 
keeping  an  eye  on  the  patient  without  troubling  her. 
Her  step  could  not  be  heard  ;  her  movements  were 
soothing  and  wholesome.  But  her  feeling  was  sore 
toward  Dr.  Cornerstone. 

The  same  room  saw  the  tragedy  of  Jessamine's  soul, 


294  A   SUPERFLUOUS 

and  the  small  upset  dignity  of  the  nurse  who  was 
assured  of  her  qualification  to  treat  it. 

About  the  catastrophes  of  life  play  all  sorts  of  tiny 
shafts  of  the  smaller  kind,  the  little  affairs  of  irrelevant 
minds  all  unconscious  of  the  depths  they  shoot  across. 

That  is  the  little  worldliness,  intermingling  itself,  as 
ever,  with  the  mystery  and  reality  of  life. 

Meanwhile  Dr.  Cornerstone,  unwitting  of  the  flutter 
left  behind  him,  raised  a  curtain  and  passed  into  the 
ante-chamber. 

This,  too,  was  warmed  and  lighted.  And  here,  too, 
a  second  nurse  sat  idle  and  silent  on  the  hearth.  Not 
all  the  warmth  nor  all  the  light  could  warm  that  which 
lay  within  the  handsome  cradle,  coldly  pushed  to  a  far 
corner.  The  chill  of  it  was  in  the  air. 

He  stood  contemplating  the  hundred  nursery  appli- 
ances which  had  been  prepared  for  the  last  hope  of  the 
House  of  Heriot;  the  luxuries  and  comforts  which 
should  have  coaxed  and  cosseted  the  small  life  onward 
to  its  splendid  destiny;  the  material  angels  which 
should  have  carried  the  heir  in  their  hands  over  peril- 
ous years,  and  landed  him  securely  at  last  in  the 
heritage  of  his  fathers. 

The  heritage  of  his  fathers!  He  had  gathered  that 
already.  Dr.  Cornerstone  walked  up  to  the  cradle, 
which  in  its  baby  magnificence  was  shaped  for  a  lord, 
and  drew  the  silken  curtain  aside.  The  heir  and  the 
heritage  of  the  House  of  Heriot  both  lay  there 
together. 

Thus  had  fallen  the  answer  to  the  will  and  the 
designing  of  man. 

The  doctor  returned,  and  took  his  place  by  Jessa- 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOA1AX.  2p5 

mine's  bedside.  No  patient  in  all  London  needed  his 
care,  his  consolation,  so  much. 

The  nurse  sat  by  the  fire  thinking  of  her  merit,  and 
telling  herself  anecdotes  of  her  past  achievements. 
And  so  the  hours  of  the  night  went  on. 

After  a  time,  when  the  silence  was  heaviest,  when  it 
lay  like  a  weight  in  the  midst  of  the  warmth  and  light, 
and  when  like  an  unwelcome  ghost  a  chill  ray  of  early 
dawn  crept  through  the  closed  shutters,  she  saw  the 
doctor  bend  close  to  the  face  of  his  patient. 

"Jessamine!" 

The  eyes,  locked  so  long  beneath  the  half-moons  of 
their  lids,  opened  and  gazed  at  him  in  an  astonishment 
that  slowly  altered  to  suspense. 

The  Plain  and  her  companion  had  vanished.  Jessa- 
mine's consciousness  of  earth  and  of  herself  had 
returned.  She  lay  still  in  her  own  chamber  as  she  sur- 
mised, but  her  senses  were  numb,  so  that  she  could 
neither  see  nor  hear,  neither  could  she  move  or  speak. 
Her  mental  power  was,  however,  the  clearer  for  that 
darkening  of  the  rest,  and  her  brain  conjured  up 
thoughts  with  a  force  and  directness  hitherto  unknown 
to  her.  Memory  especially  was  active  ;  pictures  of  her 
past  life  rose  before  her,  clear,  defined,  yet  passionless. 
The  emotion  which  had  accompanied  each  scene  had 
faded;  they  lay  before  her  in  the  calm  light  of  the 
judgment  and  reflection.  "Here  and  here,"  said  she, 
placing  the  finger  of  her  mind  upon  this  and  that,  "I 
stumbled — I  missed  the  way;  deliriously  I  chose 
wrong." 

She  went  backward  from  the  last  scene  of  all,  which, 


2r>(>  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAX. 

blurred  and  terrible,  struggled  at  last  into  remem- 
brance— the  last  scene  which  had  blotted  out  her  mind 
for  a  time,  and  from  which  onward  she  recalled  noth- 
ing. Slowly,  with  effort,  with  shrinking  reluctance, 
she  reproduced  it — the  wide,  bright  nursery,  the  sud- 
den unlooked-for  fury  of  the  idiot  girl,  the  fear  of  the 
helpless  cripple,  her  own  falling  form,  with  the  flash 
of  tables  and  chairs  and  common  objects  in  the  last 
glance  of  her  eyes,  and  the  shrieks  that  were  suddenly 
silent  to  her  ears. 

Yes;  she  remembered.  From  that  time  onward  she 
must  have  been  ill. 

And  now  her  mind  dropped  the  memory  wearily. 

From  it  she  wandered  far  away  to  the  days  when 
hopes  of  many  kinds,  varied,  bright-colored  and  glitter- 
ing, danced  through  her  heart  like  noisy  children 
through  a  playground.  In  those  days  all  her  thoughts 
were  little  shouts  of  laughter  and  victory.  Out  of  the 
mirrors  of  her  mind  looked  the  young,  fresh,  fatal 
beauty. 

"My  bitter  fate!  The  way  I  missed!  Where  was 
the  way?"  she  asked. 

Surely  it  was  where  duty  lay.  With  clear,  unfailing 
memory  she  recalled  the  nine  years  of  her  steady 
adherence  to  that  path. 

Those  who  weaved  beheld  in  the  woven  tissue  some 
reward  to  their  labor;  those  who  plowed  and  sowed 
reaped  a  harvest ;  those  who  persevered  reached  a  goal. 
But  for  her  nothing;  the  narrowest,  most  carefully  fol- 
lowed path  led  to  disaster. 

"What  is  duty?"  asked  the  sick  woman.  "Who 
taught  me  how  to  find  it?" 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  297 

Her  lids  were  heavy  and  hurt  her  eyes;  her  lashes 
hurt  as  they  lay  on  her  cheeks. 

"I  see  nothing;  I  am  too  weary,"  she  said. 

One  spot  of  earth,  and  one  alone,  was  dear  to  her  in 
memory — the  very  pain  of  it  was  sweet.  Time  dis- 
criminates for  us  the  reality  of  our  treasures  from  the 
show.  We  may  come  to  take  pain  as  our  dearest  pos- 
session, not  distinguishing  it  from  happiness,  because 
it  is  the  one  thing  which,  if  we  lose,  we  lose,  as  it  were, 
the  Self— the  Soul. 

That  memory  lay  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart ;  it  was 
a  hidden  consciousness  which  for  ten  years  had  neither 
sunk  beneath  the  horizon  of  vivid  recollection  nor 
passed  the  bars  of  her  lips.  For  her  the  pastures  of  a 
distant  land  were  ever  moist  with  morning  dew,  and 
the  harvest  was  still  growing  toward  completion,  and 
the  everlasting  hills  lying  silent  above  a  human  drama. 

She  retraced  that  past.  One  by  one  the  kindly, 
gentle  faces  rose  before  her — all,  that  is,  save  the  one 
face.  His  face — from  the  day  she  had  fled  to  this — 
neither  in  dreams  nor  in  memory,  had  she  ever  been 
able  to  summon  before  her  again.  It  had  been  blotted 
out.  He  walked  through  her  mind,  always  with  head 
averted. 

She  sank  for  a  time  into  something  that  seemed  like 
slumber — or,  rather,  it  was  the  unforced  wandering  of 
the  thoughts.  She  was  back  in  the  heaths  and  fields 
of  Dalfaber.  She  felt  the  sun  smite  hot  between  the 
rows  of  stooks  in  the  barley  field.  She  heard  the  wind 
ringing  the  music  from  the  nodding  heads;  she  felt  the 
breeze  blowing  over  the  heather;  the  melody  of  the 
quivering  birch  trees  was  in  her  ear,  the  scent  of  fir 


298  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMA.V. 

trees  filled  a  sunny  air.  And  suddenly  out  of  the  midst 
of  it  all — clear,  vivid,  and  real  as  reality — the  long 
lost  and  unseen  face,  which  her  treacherous  memory 
could  never  conjure,  bent  over  her,  looking  in  her  eyes 
with  the  smile  of  his  old  love. 

"Colin!" 

"Jessamine!" 

That  was  not  his  voice.  Slowly  the  vision  faded ; 
but  she  had  had  time  to  learn  his  features  afresh. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

IT  was  cold,  early  dawn — the  gloomy  presage  of  a 
gloomy  day. 

In  the  ante-chamber  the  attendant  drew  back  the 
window-curtain  and  looked  out.  A  drizzling  rain  fell, 
and  she  saw  the  leaves  of  the  trees  in  the  square  beaten 
by  it  and  dropping  from  the  twigs  in  silent,  helpless 
surrender.  "  Earth  to  earth  "  was  their  birthright ; 
but  they  fell  on  the  stony  pavement,  where  no  soft 
mold  sucked  them  in,  but  where  the  remorseless  gray 
light  found  them  out  with  its  cold  glitter,  and  warned 
the  unburied  things  that  for  them  there  is  no  resur- 
rection. 

In  the  inner  chamber  the  nurse  stirred  up  the  blaze 
and  drew  the  curtain  close  over  the  door  of  the  ante- 
room, and  made  a  cheerful  stir  of  life  and  movement. 
The  sick  woman  lay  with  her  great  eyes  wide  open 
and  fixed  on  the  warm  light  nestling  here  and  there 
on  the  canopy  of  the  bed.  The  eyes  were  too  con- 
scious and  far  too  full  of  thought  for  the  satisfaction 
of  the  little  nurse,  who  had  made  up  her  mind  that  the 
beautiful  Lady  Heriot  should  be  restored  through  her 
good  offices  to  her  enviable  position  in  society.  And 
Jessamine  obediently  turned  her  head  when  required, 
and  opened  her  lips  to  the  food  offered  her. 

But  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  needs  of  the  body 
were  over,  that  she  had  dropped  life — dropped  it  like 


3°°  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAM. 

a  heavy  stone  down  some  fathomless  well  of  the  past, 
on  the  edge  of  which  she  herself  sat  waiting.  There 
was  no  reason  why  she  should  go  on  living.  Life  was 
a  memory,  a  book  she  had  read  ;  she  could  turn  the 
leaves  and  look  at  it  now  as  though  it  were  the  tale  of 
another. 

Every  now  and  then  she  dozed.  Waking,  she  found 
Peace,  too  long  a  stranger,  hovering  near  her  pillow. 
Peace  whispered  that  it  was  over. 

The  doctor,  who  had  been  absent  some  hours, 
returned  at  noon.  Jessamine  welcomed  him  with  a 
smile. 

"  It  feels,"  said  she,  "  like  a  fresh  spring  day  to  me. 
The  flowers  are  growing." 

"It  is  late  autumn,"  said  he. 

"  No — spring,"  said  she  ;  "  the  year  is  beginning." 

He  touched  her  wrist  and  looked  at  her  features. 
They  were  altered  and  pinched  ;  an  invisible  hand 
molded  and  prepared  them  afresh.  The  eyes  grew 
larger  and  softer  every  moment,  and  there  was  no 
longer  either  horror  or  terror  in  them. 

"  My  life  lies  back  from  me  as  a  dream,"  she  said  ; 
"  it  is  something  I  have  passed  through.  It  is  all 
shadows,  and  they  roll  away  like  a  curtain." 

"  Yes,"  said  he. 

"  I  am  so  free,"  she  whispered. 

Later  in  the  day  Dr.  Cornerstone  saw  fit  to  summon 
into  the  chamber  the  incongruous  figure  of  Lord 
Heriot.  Like  a  beaten  hound,  conscious  of  delinquen- 
cies and  of  the  direst  failure,  he  crept  up  the  magnifi- 
cent staircase  of  his  mansion  and  in  at  the  door  of  her 
room.  He  came  like  a  shameful  shadow  of  the  past, 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  3O1 

bringing  with  him  his  tainted  memories.  But  she 
looked  at  him  steadily,  nor  shrank  as  he  approached 
the  bed,  nor  resisted  when  he  took  her  hand  in  his. 
Nothing  in  this  present  belonged  to  her  any  more. 
He  evaded  her  eyes ;  over  the  hazy  something  which 
he  called  his  mind  his  conscience  scribbled  scores 
against  him.  His  shifty  glance  fell  on  those  mental 
records  with  dismay,  and  he  hurried  into  such  refuge 
as  could  be  found  in  words. 

"  It's  an  awful  business,  Jessamine  !  "  he  said. 

And  the  ready  tear,  the  symbol  of  unbraced  will, 
stood  in  his  eyes. 

She  answered  nothing.  Their  two  wills  were  two 
whole  worlds  apart,  and  hers  had  triumphed.  In  that 
moment  she  realized  what  a  frenzy  of  willing  she  had 
thrown  into  her  desire  that  the  baby  should  not  live ; 
fixing  her  thought  on  it,  clamoring  hour  by  hour 
against  Nature  and  God,  casting  the  wild  gauntlet  of 
her  single  rebellion  against  Fate,  and  filling  day  and 
night  and  space  and  time  with  the  relentless  demand 
for  the  extinction  of  that  life  and  the  effacement  of 
her  crime.  And  the  baby  had  not  lived  ;  it  had  fallen 
out  as  she  had  resolved.  Her  husband  came  with 
eyes  red  with  tears  and  wine,  and  face  flecked  with 
the  pale  lines  of  failure  and  shame,  to  meet  her  looks 
fixed  on  him  with  the  first  quiet  sense  of  achievement 
she  had  ever  experienced. 

That  frightened  him.  It  set  him  in  so  isolated  a 
region.  With  trembling  lips,  and  shaking  hands,  and 
eyes  that  searched  an  empty  heaven,  he  essayed  once 
more  the  refuge  of  words. 

"  'Pon  my  word,  it's  a  bad  business !  "  he  stammered. 


3°2  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"There  isn't  a  Heriot  left  to  take  up  the  title  !  'Tain't 
your  fault,  Jessamine,"  he  stuttered  ;  "  I  married  for 
an  heir.  And,  Lord  knows,  I  thought  I  chose  well ! 
It's  our  infernal  ill-luck  !  " 

She  lay  in  unassailable  silence.  Death,  the  Angel 
of  Mercy,  had  passed  his  hand  here  and  there  and 
canceled  her  sins.  There  were  no  terrible  vistas  of  the 
future.  The  horror  was  washed  out  of  her  eyes.  That 
frightened  him  more.  The  one  point  of  union  had 
been  their  mutual  responsibility  in  parentage.  But 
now  her  eyes  set  him  apart.  His  conscience  winced 
at  the  thought  of  what  a  headlong  plunge  into  the 
mire  he  had  taken,  once  the  prop  of  her  presence  had 
been  withdrawn. 

"  I  feel  it  badly,  Jessamine — 'pon  my  word  I  do," 
said  he,  shivering. 

H'e  was  astounded  to  see  the  look  of  peace  deepen- 
ing in  her  eyes,  and  to  feel  her  hand  unresponsive 
within  his. 

It  lay  there  quietly,  it  is  true,  for  her  mind  retained 
its  proud  habitual  attitude  of  gentle  acquiescence  in 
the  deed  of  her  own  doing.  But  as  she  looked  at  him, 
she  knew  that  that  too  was  over ;  his  very  appearance 
dwindled  and  dwindled  to  an  immense  distance,  for  all 
their  touching  fingers.  The  feet  of  her  soul  traveled 
fast  and  sure.  She  was  terribly  silent.  At  last  she 
withdrew  her  hand. 

That  frightened  him  more  and  more.  The  perspira- 
tion stood  on  his  brow,  and  his  hair  lifted  with  dismay. 
Her  solemn  fixed  eyes  were  awful,  and  he  looked 
away  from  them.  A  horrible  sense  of  inability  pos- 
sessed him  ;  the  world  was  in  flux. 


.-/    SUPERFLUOUS    l\'OMA\'.  303 

"  You  aint  going  to  leave  me,"  he  stammered 
anxiously  ;  "  'pon  my  word  I  can't  do  without  you." 

"  We  have  to  stand  each  one  alone,"  said  she. 

Stand  !  Why.  every  footstep  was  a  slough  !  There 
was  only  bottomless  morass  everywhere. 

But  she  looked  calm  and  strong.  Her  eye  in  its 
secret  peace  forsook  him. 

And  then  confession  tumbled  out  of  his  soul  head- 
long ;  there  were  neither  locks  nor  bolts  left  jn  his 
character,  and  the  mere  suggestion  of  a  closed  door  in 
another  mind  set  the  deficient  portals  of  his  own 
flapping.  He  confessed  out  of  mere  ineffectiveness 
and  inability  to  retain.  He  tried  to  catch  her  hand, 
but  missed  the  pure,  slim  fingers,  and,  burying  his 
head  in  the  pillow,  whispered  between  choking  sobs 
his  catalogue  of  offenses,  and  the  ready  promises 
which  were  but  an  added  sign  of  looseness  in  the  soul. 
She  listened  tranquilly,  her  mind  withdrawn.  That 
also  was  part  of  the  dream  and  the  past.  It  was  as 
though  she  heard  the  history  of  the  dead  and  pitied  it. 

Afterward  he  slipped  from  confession  into  murmur- 
ing complaint.  He  uttered  laments  against  destiny, 
and  denounced  the  fate  that  singled  him  out  for  dis- 
appointment. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  being  good  when  you  can't  get 
what  you  want  out  of  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  There  is  no  use,"  said  Jessamine. 

The  doctor  stood  behind  the  curtain  and  watched. 

"  Go  now,"  he  ordered. 

Heriot  rose  to  his  feet.  He  mopped  the  moisture 
from  his  brow,  and  looked  at  the  still  face  on  the 
bed. 


304  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"  Get  well,"  he  said,  "and  come  down.  It's  damned 
lonely  without  you." 

Vaguely  in  his  mind  lingered  the  ineradicable  im- 
pressions of  his  superiority  as  a  man,  of  his  prerogative 
as  a  husband,  of  the  magnificence  of  an  alliance  with 
the  Heriots;  it  hovered  on  the  surface  of  his  thoughts 
that  he  would  encourage  her  with  assurances  that  he 
still  hoped,  that  he  would  let  her  know  that  she  need 
not  b£  down-hearted,  because  he  intended  to  be  as 
kind  to  her  as  ever,  and  they  would  jog  on  together  as 
before,  and  so  forth. 

Something — perhaps  the  mesmeric  eyes  "of  the  doc- 
tor— prevented  this  speech.  He  began  to  want  to  get 
out  of  the  room.  He  was  quite  ill  and  weak  with  the 
outburst  of  weeping  and  confession  and  the  unusual 
moral  exercise  ;  his  mind  was  already  on  the  bottle  as 
a  restorative,  his  thought  stealing  to  the  indulgence 
and  laying  hold  on  it,  while  the  more  surface  and  open 
portion  of  his  mind  lingered  on  the  luxury  of  good 
resolution. 

"  Ta-ta  !  "  he  said  ;  "  see  you  again  to-morrow." 

And  he  shuffled  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and  closed 
it  again  behind  him. 

A  thin  wooden  partition  it  seemed.  It  was  the  door 
of  eternal  separation.  The  material  click  of  the  latch 
might  have  startled  him  like  some  magical  trick,  such 
untraversable  space  did  it  set  between  him  and  her. 

When  he  turned  away,  she  had  followed  him  with 
her  eyes,  and  in  them  was  a  faint  astonishment.  The 
husband  of  nine  years  was  so  complete  a  stranger! 
More  shadowlike  than  all  the  shadows,  she  felt  him 
pass  away  into  annihilation. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  3°5 

She  lay  and  looked  quietly  at  one  place  in  the  can- 
opy of  the  bed.  The  whole  of  life — save  one  spot  of 
it — became  more  and  more  to  the  eye  of  her  mind  a 
colorless  region. 

"  What  do  you  see,  Jessamine  ?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"  Oh,  my  good  friend !  come  here,  and  I  will  tell 
you.  Hold  my  hand." 

Then  it  was  that,  for  the  first  time,  Jessamine  opened 
her  lips  upon  the  story  of  the  Highlands.  She  told 
the  tale  by  degrees — sometimes  with  broken  utterance 
— but  she  hid  nothing  from  the  doctor. 

"  You  understand  it  ?  "  she  said  anxiously.  "  I  wish 
you  to  know  that  I  am  not  better  than  some  others. 
All  that  was  wanting  was  the  skill  to  win." 

She  trembled  a  little,  still  shivering  under  the  cold 
mailed  purity  of  the  man  who  could  not  guess  the 
nature  of  her  surrender. 

'  "  I  do  not  know,"  she  said,  "  what  I  was  born  for. 
On  looking  back,  I  cannot  see  what  path  was  meant 
for  me.  Everything  coerced,  but  nothing  taught  me. 
I  have  been  perishing  ever  since  I  began  to  exist. 
There  has  never  been  a  way  for  me  at  all.  I  have 
rushed  from  extreme  to  extreme,  and  found — nothing" 

She  drew  a  long,  deep  breath. 

"  Ah,  dear  Colin  !     He  hurt  me,"  she  murmured. 

The  doctor  sat  staring  before  him  silently. 

" '  Poor  woman  !  '  "  she  said.  '  That  is  what  came 
into  my  mind  when  I  heard  of  a  fall.  And  /  envied 
them" 

The  doctor  stared  hard  at  the  curtain  and  said 
nothing. 

"  It  took    the  bitterness  out    of  my  heart    when  I 


3°6  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

went  down  to  them,  and  sat  with  them  hand  in  hand, 
and  counted  myself  one  with  them.  It  soothed  the 
pain  in  time  a  little" 

The  mouth  of  the  doctor  was  grimly  closed. 

"  I  strove  to  be  better  from  henceforth,  but  God 
knows  I  meant  no  harm  even  then.  I  have  been  a 
dutiful  wife  to  Lord  Heriot,"  she  murmured.  "  It 
was  for  Colin's  sake.  1  feared  to  lose  Colin  out  of  my 
soul.  God  !  the  way  was  long." 

Her  voice  was  weak  now.  Presently  it  ceased,  and 
she  seemed  to  slumber.  The  doctor  sat  by  her,  hold- 
ing her  hand.  His  mind  was  heavy  with  thought — 
thoughts  of  life  and  death,  of  choice  and  conduct,  and 
the  ways  of  men. 

Later  he  noticed  a  restlessness  and  fever  about  her. 
He  saw  a  flush  in  her  cheeks,  and  that  her  eyes  shone. 
She  appeared  more  beautiful  than  before,  but  the 
white  lids  had  opened  with  a  strange  look  of  expecta- 
tion. He  bent  over  her,  watching  her  carefully ;  and 
when  she  saw  it  something  between  assurance  and  per- 
plexity passed  into  her  face. 

"  Lift  me,  doctor,"  said  she. 

He  obeyed,  and  Jessamine,  clinging  to  his  arm  and 
shoulder,  made  shift  to  peer  anxiously  over  the  side  of 
the  bed.  In  her  eyes  was  the  piteous  hungry  look, 
and  upon  that  followed  a  wan  look  of  disappointment, 
and  she  sank  back  upon  her  pillow  as  though  con- 
vinced. What  had  she  sought  ?  What  had  she  im- 
agined ?  A  lump  rose  in  the  doctor's  throat,  for  she 
turned  her  face  to  the  pillow,  and  he  knew  that  she 
was  sobbing.  He  took  her  hand  again  in  his  own, 
and  stroked  it  gently.  The  new  access  of  grief  and 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  307 

excitement  perplexed  him.  Presently  the  tears  ceased, 
but  then  he  was  assured  that  she  looked  and  listened 
again,  and  that  for  something  hidden  from  himself. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  seek  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Doctor,"  cried  the  weak  voice  of  the  dying  woman, 
"  is  there  nothing  by  the  bedside?" 

"  No,  Jessamine — no,  my  dear." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  she ;  "  surely  there  is." 

He  replied  more  warily : 

"  And  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Is  there  no  little  child  there  ?  " 

He  mistook  her  idea  altogether,  and  answered 
quickly : 

"  No,  no,  my  dear." 

"Yes,"  she  cried  anxiously;  "a  little  ' boy,  doctor, 
with  steady  eyes  of  a  yellowish  brown,  and  sturdy  red 
limbs,  and  crisp  hair  that  curls  over  his  brow." 

"There  is  none,"  faltered  the  doctor;  "rest,  my 
dear." 

She  struggled  up  again,  and  clung  to  him,  looking 
imploringly  in  his  face. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  said  ;  "  it  is  there.  It  must  be  there. 
It  runs  by  the  bedside,  smiling.  Oh,  sweet  little  face  ! 
I  carried  it  as  a  baby  ten  years  ago.  It  lay  in  my 
breast.  I  saw  it.  It  gurgled  and  smiled.  Eyes  of  a 
yellowish  brown.  And  all  through  the  years  I  watched 
it  growing.  When  I  walked  alone  through  the  pas- 
sages, it  ran  after  and  tugged  at  my  skirt.  Crisp  curls 
over  the  brows,  doctor,  sturdy  limbs,  and  a  red,  red 
mouth.  It  grew  older.  Sometimes  its  little  arms  were 
tight  about  my  neck.  At  evening,  when  I  was  alone 
and  all  was  still,  it  sat  on  a  little  stool,  with  its  head  on 


3°8  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

its  hand,  reading  a  picture  book.  And  now  it  runs 
round  the  bed,  smiling  and  beckoning.  Surely  you  see 
it  too!  " 

"  In — in — the  next  world,"  he  faltered  ;  "  yes,  I 
see  it  too,  Jessamine." 

And  he  turned  his  head  away,  stifling  a  groan.  But 
the  half-delirious  woman  was  satisfied.  Hearing  the 
last  words,  she  rested  in  them.  She  lay  with  closed 
lids,  a  smile  parting  her  Ijps.  Presently  the  doctor 
saw  her  feebly — very  feebly — moving  her  left  hand 
slowly  and  with  effort  toward  the  edge  of  the  bed. 
She  lifted  her  fingers  and  dropped  them  softly,  ten- 
derly, upon  the  little  head  she  pictured  there.  And 
as  she  raised  and  let  them  fall,  from  the  thin  finger 
slipped  the  wedding  ring  and  rolled  away  unnoticed. 

The  doctor  sat  by  her  side,  holding  the  other  hand 
in  his.  He  would  not  leave  her  now  until  the  end  ;  in 
all  London  no  one  needed  him  so  much.  No  creature 
was  so  lonely  as  this  admired  queen  of  beauty.  In  all 
London  he  was  the  one  friend  she  possessed. 

The  nurse  sat  by  the  fire  and  nursed  her  grudge. 
She  was  unjustly  robbed  of  the  prestige  she  had  hoped 
to  earn  by  close  attention  on  the  brilliant  and  envied 
Lady  Heriot.  The  doctor  plainly  distrusted  her. 

Death,  the  Great  Messenger,  was  the  other  inmate  of 
the  chamber.  He  stood  there  waiting,  felt,  yet  in- 
visible, with  mercy  in  his  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

IT  was  summer  again  ;  and  it  was  summer  in  that 
most  beautiful  of  all  places,  a  fir  wood.  It  had  been 
hot  for  a  week,  so  that  the  air  was  full  of  a  most 
sweet,  aromatic  odor,  and  the  fallen  needles  of  the 
pines  made  a  sun-warm  bed,  and  glowing  light  hovered 
over  every  leaf  and  blade  and  petal,  and  the  flash  of  it 
was  carried  on  the  furry  backs  of  squirrels  and  the 
wings  of  birds.  In  the  air  was  a  murmur  of  insects. 
Bees  droned  their  music  close  to  the  flowers,  and  the 
flies  made  theirs  higher  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees, 
and  the  wind  in  the  topmost  branches  was  continuous 
and  very  soft,  with  a  roll  in  it  like  the  tumble  of  far- 
off  seas.  And  yet  the  volume  of  sound  thrown  out 
was  low  to  human  ears,  so  that  the  patter  of  a  dry  leaf 
on  the  ground  could  be  distinctly  heard,  and  the  noise 
of  the  squirrels'  clinging  feet  on  the  bark  of  the  trees. 
Every  now  and  then  came  the  cooing  of  a  dove,  or  the 
cry  of  a  woodpecker,  or  the  scream  of  a  jay.  The 
rooks  flew  silently  save  for  the  rustle  of  their  passing 
wings  and  now  and  then  a  soft  complaint  which  did 
not  rise  to  a  caw. 

It  was  the  place  for  a  summer  holiday,  and  Dr. 
Cornerstone,  his  wife,  and  friend  Carteret  had  found  it 
out.  The  doctor  leaned  back  against  the  trunk  of  a 
fir,  Carteret  was  silently  measuring  the  spaces  between 
the  branches  of  a  tree  with  absent  eyes,  and  Mrs. 

309 


310  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

Cornerstone,  more  thoroughly  awake  than  either  of 
the  others,  was  bending  her  quiet,  meditative  face — 
full  of  home  memories  and  peaceful  joys — over  some 
hand-sewing :  and  this  upon  examination  proved  to  be 
a  muslin  pinafore,  to  which  she  was  adding  the 
motherly  tribute  of  embroidery. 

She  it  was  who  broke  the  silence. 

"  When  you  were  telling  us  the  story,"  said  she, 
"  you  always  spoke  of  her  as  '  the  superfluous 
woman.' " 

The  doctor  opened  his  eyes  and  glanced  at  her. 

"  And  you  never  told  me  her  name,"  continued  she, 
still  stitching. 

"  She  was  called  by  the  beautiful  name  of  a  flower." 

"  Then  I,  if  I  had  known  her,  would  have  told  her 
she  was  no  more  superfluous  than  the  beautiful  flower 
she  was  called  by.  I  would  have  shown  her  how  to 
believe  it." 

"  But  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  it  would  have  been 
true,"  said  Dr.  Cornerstone. 

Mrs.  Cornerstone  looked  at  her  husband  reproach- 
fully from  beneath  soft  brown  eyebrows. 

"  We  must  be  careful,"  said  Carteret ;  "  it  seems  we 
might  easily  slip  into  treason." 

"  I  am  just  a  little  fearful  that  my  wife  will  touch 
this  matter  too  romantically,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Oh.no,  indeed!"  returned  Mrs.  Cornerstone,  in 
surprise  and  with  a  hint  of  indignation  in  her  tone. 

"  I  am  rash  enough  to  think  so,"  replied  her  hus- 
band. 

"  I  did  not  think  you  would  ever  call  me  romantic/' 
said  Mrs.  Cornerstone. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  311 

"  Prose  is  so  cold  and  unattractive,"  said  Carteret. 
"  I  am  afraid  "when  women  discover  how  prosaic 
equality  is  we  shall  not  get  them  to  accept  it." 

He  glanced  at  Mrs.  Cornerstone  with  a  twinkle  in 
his  eyes ;  but  she,  a  model  of  composure,  sat  on  her 
seat  of  fallen  fir  spines  without  turning  her  head. 

"  I  dislike  chaff,"  said  she,  with  gentle  dignity  ;  "  but 
you  are — both  of  you — better  than  your  own  talk,  and 
neither  of  you  mean  what  you  are  saying." 

"  I  think  I  do,"  said  Cornerstone.  "  But,  come !  let 
us,  then,  talk  now  on  an  equality." 

She  flushed  a  sudden  warm  color  and  paused  for  her 
reply,  tilting  her  head  a  little  backward,  and  contem- 
plating the  light  that  made  the  oak  underwood  blaze. 

"  As  though  we  were  three  men  ?  "  said  she,  "  or  as 
though  we  were  three  women  ?  Go  on.  I  will  con- 
sent to  listen.  And  in  the  end  I  shall  perhaps  decide 
whether  to  keep  my  own  standpoint  or  to  condescend 
to  yours." 

"  Might  we  not  begin  by  inquiring  what  inequality 
is?"  said  Carteret.  "  Define  it,  Cornerstone." 

"  Between  men  and  men  the  only  definition  is, 
artificial  inequality  of  conditions.  Between  men  and 
women  it  is  enforced  inequality  of  development." 

"  Stop  a  bit !  "  said  Carteret.  "  That  wants  re- 
defining." 

"  I  mean  that  women,  as  a  rule,  are  socially  con- 
demned to  a  too  exclusive  development  of  one  side  of 
the  nature.  Whereas  the  object  in  man  is  to  bring 
out  an  all-round  creature." 

"  Yes,"  said  Carteret,  in  a  judicial  tone ;  "  I  think 
you  are  right.  I  believe  I  agree." 


3*2  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"  Wait  a  moment ! "  cried  Mrs.  Cornerstone  in  her 
turn.  "  Is  this  natural  or  artificial  ?  " 

"  This  one-sided  development  ?  Oh,  almost  entirely 
artificial — hot-bed  culture — /  think  !  Others  might 
not  agree  with  me." 

Mrs.  Cornerstone  nodded  her  head  once  or  twice 
emphatically. 

"  Cornerstone,"  put  in  Carteret  irrelevantly,  "  did 
you  ever  search  the  dictionary  for  the  meaning  of  the 
word  '  honor'?" 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  have." 

"  In  Webster  you  will  find  it  defined  under  two 
heads.  Honor  for  a  man  signifies  integrity — i.  e., 
wholeness." 

"  Certainly." 

"  For  a  woman,  however,  it  means  chastity." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  A  man  is  a  man,  and  a  woman  merely 
a  function." 

"That  is  a  cruel  thing!"  cried  Mrs.  Cornerstone. 
"  Does  anyone  consider  that  such  a  definition  is  false  ? 
And  a  false  definition  may  be  accepted  as  though  it 
were  something  final." 

"  It  is  a  cruel  thing !  "  said  the  doctor  gravely  ; 
"  and  the  meaning  of  the  inequality  of  the  sexes  was 
never  better  defined." 

"  Is  anyone  to  wonder  if  a  woman  should  adapt  her 
moral  conceptions  to  the  idea  expressed?"  said  Mrs. 
Cornerstone,  with  unusual  heat  in  her  tone. 

"  I  fancy  it  accounts  for  some  dry-rot  in  the  ship's 
timbers  all  round,"  said  Carteret. 

"Then,"  cried  Mrs.  Cornerstone,  opening  her  hands 
and  lifting  her  face,  "  I  think  I  want  a  tempest  to  come !  " 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  3*3 

Neither  of  the  men  replied.  Her  work  dropped  on 
her  knee,  and  lay  there  in  a  soft  heap  ;  her  thimble,  a 
little  bright  spot,  escaped,  and  rolled  over  the  fir 
needles  until  her  husband  caught  it  with  his  foot. 
The  peace  of  the  summer's  day  was  apt  to  steal  long 
pauses  in  between  the  conversation.  A  squirrel,  hold- 
ing a  cone  in  its  hands,  ran  along  a  bough  near,  peeped 
at  them  from  its  safe  position,  dropped  the  cone,  and 
with  a  simulation  of  terror  scampered  away. 

"  The  Lord  will  not  be  in  the  tempest,"  said  the 
doctor  when  the  shadows  were  longer  by  quarter  of 
an  hour. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  this  stillness  in  the  woods,  for  I 
protest  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  it.  The  dastard 
within  me  cowers  at  the  thought  of  turmoil,"  said 
Carteret. 

"  Why  not  a  tempest?  "  asked  Mrs.  Cornerstone. 

"  Because,"  replied  her  husband,  "  I  do  not  think 
that  wholeness  was  ever  won  by  clamor.  A  woman 
will  conquer  just  as  soon  as  she  is  in  herself  all  she 
would  desire  to  seem  to  be,  and  not  one  hour  earlier. 
Equality  is  not  a  thing  that  can  be  given  ;  it  has  to  be 
won.  Once  won,  I  do  not  think  men  will  resist.  For 
all  its  fortresses  the  heart  desires  conquest,  and  loves 
no  one  like  the  conqueror." 

"  That  is  a  very  pretty  remark !  "  said  his  wife. 
"  But  there  are  too  many  ugly  things  said  on  the  other 
side  for  me  to  be  able  to  believe  it." 

"  You  are  right,  Mrs.  Cornerstone,"  said  Carteret. 
"  Our  manly  egoism  will  defend  itself  against  its  death- 
wound." 

"  Besides,  I  do  not  like  fighting,"  said  Mrs.  Corner- 


3M  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

stone  firmly ;  "  I  do  not  believe  good  comes  of  it. 
What  is  the  use  if  we  women  add  to  the  noise  and 
turmoil  in  the  world  ?  We  had  better  be  quiet  and 
safer." 

"Oh,  no!"  said  her  husband.  "You  must  not  re- 
lapse into  that." 

"  It  plays,"  said  Carteret  rather  dryly,  "  too  much 
into  the  hands  of  man." 

"  Besides,"  added  the  doctor,  "  I  am  not  sure  that 
the  choice  is  left  to  you.'' 

"  He  means,"  said  Carteret,  "  that  the  tendency  of 
the  age  is  toward  equality,  and  its  main  business  the 
break-up  of  monopoly.  And  no  one  can  escape  the 
influence." 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Cornerstone,  "  the  spirit  of 
the  age  cannot  tell  me  to  fight." 

"  Possibly  not  in  the  way  you  mean!  For  the  same 
impulse  which  urges  women  to  take  equality  urges 
men  to  yield  it." 

Mrs.  Cornerstone  took  up  her  work  again,  and  her 
husband  got  the  little  bright  thimble  back  and  handed 
it  to  her. 

"  The  aim  is  not,  you  know,"  said  he,  as  she  pushed 
her  finger  into  it,  "  to  take  things  and  places  the  one 
from  the  other,  but  to  have  in  the  character  the  sort 
of  qualities  upon  which  the  possession  of  them  de- 
pends." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mrs.  Cornerstone,  "  the  struggle  is  not, 
then,  between  women  and  men,  but  between  women 
and  life." 

"  Now,  that  fires  me  ! "  cried  Carteret  excitedly. 
"  There  was  a  dream  once  that  God  became  man.  The 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  315 

dream  of  the  future  is  that  all  humanity  is  many-sided 
man." 

"  Precisely !  "  said  the  doctor.  "  Give  them  but  a 
headpiece ! " 

"  Waif  !  "  said  Mrs.  Cornerstone.  "  All  this  is  still 
too  masculine.  You  have  not  consulted  me,  and  I  am 
by  no  means  certain  that  I  am  pleased  with  it.  I  will 
have  a  new  headpiece  if  you  like,  but  I  will  choose  it 
for  myself.  And  all  women  shall  not  have  the  same." 

Her  husband  laughed  delightedly. 

"  That  is,  of  course,  what  is  wanted  !  Resist !  re- 
sist !  and  choose  your  own." 

Mrs.  Cornerstone,  who  had  a  many-changing  face, 
softly  responsive  to  clear  thoughts  within,  bent  over 
her  work  and  gathered  it  suddenly  to  her  breast. 

"  I  have  not  yet  said  that  I  wish  I  had  known  the 
woman  of  your  story.  If  I  had  known  her  I  would 
not  have  let  her  be  beaten.  I  would  have  taught  her 
that  no  man  had  a  right  to  call  her  '  superfluous.' 
And  tell  me,  in  your  heart,  do  you  think  that  she  was 
beaten  ?  " 

"  I  have  asked  myself  the  question,"  said  her  hus- 
band. 

"  There  was  more  in  the  end  of  the  tale  than  in  the 
beginning,"  said  his  wife,  "  and  that  is  the  most  the 
best  of  us  can  attain." 

"  Return  to  the  general,"  said  Carteret.  "  Need  it 
be  an  execrable  thing  to  be  a  woman?  " 

Mrs.  Cornerstone  smiled  sweetly  and  leniently  upon 
him. 

"  We  must  really  beware  of  touching  the  problem 
too  emotionally,"  said  Cornerstone ;  "  it  is  favor  and 


316  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

flattery  that  blow  women  up  into  air  bubbles.  Give 
them  a  fair  field  and  no  favor." 

"Hound!" 

Mrs.  Cornerstone  turned  her  face — soft  danger  in 
her  eyes  and  on  all  the  points  and  tips  of  her  features 
— to  her  husband. 

"  I  accept  the  bargain  for  the  whole  sex,"  said  she 
gravely. 

"  I  wish  the  rest  of  the  world  were  of  your  mind !" 
said  he.  "  It  is  pressure  that  brings  the  good  wine 
out,  and  we  must  avoid  putting  too  much  sympathy 
into  the  problem.  The  mischief  with  women  is  that 
they  are  too  sympathetic.  I  am  convinced  it  is  an 
indication  of  contempt.  I  have  remarked  that  every 
woman  thinks  all  men  beneath  her,  save  the  one  she  is 
in  love  with." 

"  I  am  very  much  shocked  at  what  you  are  saying, 
indeed  ! "  put  in  Mrs.  Cornerstone,  blushing,  however, 
in  a  way  that  looked  as  though  she  recognized  some 
truth  in  the  remark.  "  Do  not  mind  him,  Mr.  Car- 
teret.  He  does  not  talk  like  this  when  we  are 
alone." 

"  But  what  is  the  average  woman's  conception  of  un- 
derstanding men  ?"  continued  Cornerstone.  "Merely 
a  facile  adaptation  of  herself  to  his  weakness,  or  pos- 
sibly to  his  virtue." 

"  The  women  give  us  just  what  our  egoism  de- 
mands," said  Carteret ;  "  we  reward  her  by  treating  her 
as  an  angel,  and  alternating  that  by  snubbing  her  as  a 
growing  boy." 

"  Both  are  exceedingly  disagreeable,"  said  Mrs. 
Cornerstone,  "  and  affect  me  as  bad  manners  simply. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  3*7 

I  feel  it  difficult  to  excuse  a  treatment  of  myself  as 
something  that  I  am  not." 

Her  husband  laughed. 

"  You  must  be  more  lenient,"  said  he,  "  and  pardon 
it.  The  rougher  conduct  is  merely  the  sign  of  the 
advance  of  thought,  man  being  more  awkward  than 
woman  in  accommodating  himself  to  a  change." 

"  I  think"  said  Mrs.  Cornerstone  playfully,  "that 
we  shall  be  able  to  teach  him  we  are  reasonable  and 
adults." 

"  That  is  precisely  what  he  longs — the  best  part  of 
him — to  be  convinced  about.  Once  make  him  sure  of 
it!" 

"  I  have  always  held,"  said  Carteret,  "  that  intellectu- 
ality is  a  necessary  ingredient  to  fine  emotion." 

"Yes;  human  nature  is  of  a  piece.  What  is  our 
best  is  their  best.  The  joy  of  earth  is  in  mind.  And 
we  have  not  been  choice  enough  in  our  pleasures." 

Mrs.  Cornerstone  listened  with  parted  lips  and  a 
half-smile. 

"Adam,  yoir  see,  was  the  first  coward,  and  was 
frightened  of  the  apple  that  Eve  dared  to  gather. 
He  promptly  invented  the  voice  in  the  garden  and  set 
her  under,"  said  Carteret. 

"  Admirable  Eve !  Let  her  steal  the  apple  once 
more." 

"  And  it  is  to  be  hoped  she  will  give  Adam  the  drub- 
bing he  deserves." 

"  I  fancy  not.  Here  and  there,  maybe,  of  course. 
But  on  the  whole  the  creature  is  of  a  fine  generosity. 
She  has  a  noble  honor.  One  day  she  will  teach  the 
meaning  of  integrity  to  man." 


3*8  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Cornerstone  softly  to 
herself ;  "  so  she  will.  Is  he  as  perfect  as  he  assumes  ?  " 

"  We  need  a  lesson  !  "  exclaimed  Carteret,  who  had 
not  caught  Mrs.  Cornerstone's  murmur.  "  Do  we  not 
judge  her  life  as  of  less  consequence  than  our  own,  and 
her  suffering  of  less  acccjunt  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  that  is  true.  I  am  afraid  we  must  con- 
fess that  we  shuffle  as  much  of  our  share  of  the  burden 
of  suffering  as  we  can  upon  shoulders  which  it  is  con- 
venient to  us  to  name  the  weaker  and  to  treat  as  the 
stronger.  True — true.  I  have  before  now  remarked 
that,  so  long  as  we  keep  in  our  eye  Webster's  defini- 
tion of  a  woman's  honor,  and  have  not  trespassed  in 
that  particular,  we  adapt  the  rest  of  our  honor  to  the 
insignificance  of  the  subject  as  we  conceive  it.  What 
is  a  lie  in  a  man's  mouth  to  a  man  is  not  a  lie  to  a 
woman,  and  the  whole  masculine  conception  of  integ- 
rity takes  a  lower  tone  when  the  question  stands  be- 
tween him  and  one  of  the  other  sex.  So  that  a 
man  have  not  seduced  the  purity  of  a  woman  (of  his 
own  class),  but  have  left  her  intact  to  some  other 
man's  thirst,  he  may  cheat  her  commercially,  break  his 
word  to  her,  insult  her  by  a  depreciating  manner, 
under-pay  her  work,  add  to  his  own  plenty  from  her 
penury,  accept  any  sacrifice  from  her  without  repayal, 
cozen  her  with  any  sort  of  false  promises,  and  ease 
himself  cheaply  at  her  expense  on  any  opportune 
occasion.  All  this  deleterious  consequence  to  our 
manhood  is  the  result  of  that  Websterian  definition  of 
a  woman's  honor  which  man's  fastidiousness  has  con- 
ceived. The  distinction  lurks  at  the  back  of  every 
man's  mind.  Why,  argues  he,  should  I  be  whole  in 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    U'OMA.Y.  319 

my  conduct  to  a  creature  that  has  not  wholeness  in 
herself,  who  is  there,  not  for  herself  or  the  world,  but 
for  me — for  me  ?  " 

Mrs. Cornerstone  rose  to  her  feet,  looking  somewhat 
severe. 

"  Your  tongue,"  said  she  to  her  husband,  "  is  running 
away  with  you.  This  is  really  very  extravagant  lan- 
guage. Is  this  the  place  to  debate  matters  with  such 
extraordinary  warmth  ?  Listen  !  I  protest  I  hear  the 
woodpecker  tapping.  Oh,  really,  we  have  lost  a  great 
deal  through  not  having  sat  silent.  Do  not,  Mr. 
Carteret,  allow  him  to  work  himself  up  to  a  white  heat 
any  more.  For  myself,  I  am  going  where  I  can  be 
still.  Is  this  a  London  drawing  room  that  we  should 
talk  so  much  ?  There  have  been  moments  when  the 
sight  of  the  winged  creatures  over  there  in  the  tops  of 
the  trees  affected  me  as  a  kind  of  warning.  '  Only  be 
still,'  they  seemed  to  be  saying.  And,  besides" — here 
she  glanced  upon  her  husband  with  a  dewy  eye — "  I 
am  convinced  that  only  I  really  understand  the  story  of 
that  beautiful  woman  with  the  lovely  name  of  the 
flower.  I  am  going  where  I  can  think  about  her  and 
not  theorize.  Perhaps — who  knows  ? — I  may  discover 
that  she  is  not  so  very  distant  from  me,  after  all.  If 
so,  I  shall  have  the  opportunity  I  wish  for — of  telling 
her  that  she  is  not  superfluous." 

She  glanced  .down  again  at  the  two  men  with  a 
mysterious,  reproachful  look.  When  with  a  soft,  un- 
dulating movement  she  passed  down  the  wood  away 
from  them,  her  skirt  turning  the  leaves  and  flowers 
as  sh^  went,  they  followed  her  with  their  eyes. 

Upon   her   departing   steps   came   silence,     It   was 


320  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAX. 

broken  by  the  far-off  cooing  of  a  dove — a  sound  which 
stole  the  thought  away  to  regions  of  leafy  peace. 
Evening  began  to  bring  her  deepening  hues  within  the 
wood  ;  every  leaf  burned  with  an  indescribable  ethereal 
glow;  the  atmosphere  was  golden  and  amethyst-tinted, 
and  the  light  on  the  branches  of  the  firs  was  red  as 
flame.  An  unspeakable  pomp  and  glory  reigned,  and 
neither  had  an  inclination  to  break  the  embargo  of 
silence  which  Dr.  Cornerstone's  wife  had  laid  upon 
them. 

Thus  passed  away  an  hour  of  silent  enjoyment,  the 
faces  of  the  men  changing  and  softening  under  the 
natural  impressions. 

At  last  with  a  mutual  impulse  they  rose  to  go. 

"  She  was  right,"  said  the  doctor  softly ;  "  I  have 
the  sort  of  perturbation  which  too  much  talking  leaves 
behind.  Have  you  any  assurance  that  AVC  spoke 
sense  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Carteret.  "  But  in  the  after-silence  I 
felt  dreams,  like  startled  birds,  flying  from  my  heart." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

IT  was  early  autumn  before  Dr.  Cornerstone  began 
to  make  an  end  of  holiday  time.  And  he  finished  off 
his  unwonted  pleasure-taking  by  a  lonely  journey  to 
the  Highlands,  where  he  penetrated  to  the  remote  cor- 
ner of  earth  which  Jessamine  had  described  to  him. 

It  seemed  to  him,  when  he  discovered  it,  to  be  the 
one  hidden  nook  in  a  world  which  is  too  public.  But 
even  here  privacy  was  fast  being  driven  from  her  last 
retreat ;  the  place  had  been  discovered  by  the  tourist, 
and  the  story  of  the  McKenzies'  mysterious  farm-help 
could  not  have  been  repeated  a  decade  later  than  it 
occurred.  The  peasant  of  the  district  was  himself 
becoming  sophisticated  ;  his  canniness  began  a  little  to 
overlap  his  primitive  hospitality,  and  to  threaten  to 
submerge  it.  Were  not  the  roving  folks  with  long 
purses  in  their  pockets  created  to  supplement  an  ungra- 
cious climate  with  cash  payments?  And  thus  the 
hunger  for  relief  from  town  civilization  became  here  as 
elsewhere  its  own  defeat. 

The  hand  robs  the  nest  of  simplicity,  and  yet  sup- 
poses that  the  brood  will  be  reared  ;  and  restlessness 
chases  repose  from  the  land  when  undertaking  to  pur- 
chase it  by  overbidding  in  a  rising  market. 

Moreover,  the  spiritual  outstretch  of  London,  with 
its  mingled  good  and  evil,  overflows  by  degrees  to 
remotest  corners.  To  be  unsophisticated  is  a  charac- 

321 


322  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

teristic  of  ever-increasing  rareness.  It  falls  insensibly 
from  the  catalogue  of  modern  qualities,  and  its  posses- 
sion, though  refreshing,  begins  to  argue  an  intellectual 
want.  In  truth,  native  unsophisticatedness  of  soul  is 
being  exchanged  for  that  less  fleeting  possession — the 
simplicity  which  is  the  result  of  choice  and  of  deep 
thinking.  As  old  good  things  go  new  good  things 
come,  and  loss  is  mingled  with  gain. 

The  Highland  village  was  changed.  For  one  thing, 
the  laird,  not  at  all  from  a  convinced  or  instructed 
mind,  but  out  of  deference  to  a  force  which  he  began 
to  recognize  as  compelling,  had  reluctantly  ceased  to 
put  up  gates  and  fences  where  the  enterprising  Society 
for  the  Preservation  of  Public  Rights  of  Way  as  per- 
sistently pulled  them  down  again.  The  war,  begun  in 
bluster,  was  dwindling  to  a  tacit  acknowledgment  of 
defeat ;  and  the  secular  "  machine "  of  the  peasant 
farmer  rattled  over  moor  roads  which  formerly  were 
proclaimed,  by  a  sort  of  religious  desolation  and 
silence,  to  be  consecrated  to  wild  and  therefore  shoot- 
able  nature. 

Moreover,  the  common  London  Socialist  left  his 
literature  behind  him,  and  the  peasant  farmer  picked 
it  up  and  read.  The  modern  spirit,  the  conception  of 
thorough  emancipation,  struck  a  fruitful  root  down- 
ward, and  a  man's  vision  became  acute  enough  to 
detect  shoddy  in  the  pretenses  of  another,  and  to  dis- 
perse the  illusory  hallo  surrounding  purchased  or 
inherited  rights,  the  communal  idea  intruding  upon  and 
effacing  the  individualistic  notion  of  "his  or  mine  own." 

That  stretched  the  heart  and  strengthened  the  nerve 
fibers. 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  323 

The  canny  peasant  perceived  that  in  a  world  sus- 
pended upon  Fortune's  fickle  wheel  his  own  depressed 
spoke  might  come  up  top  at  last.  He  cast  firmer 
glances  on  the  expanses  of  deer  forest  which  would  be 
so  convenient  for  pasture,  and  his  eye  was  speculative 
of  coming  increase.  When  the  glance  of  a  peasant  is 
so,  the  era  of  the  deer  forest  is  over,  even  though  the 
fir  trees  still  stand.  Not  to  be  so  nipped,  not  to  be  so 
harassed,  to  have  a  little  margin  here  and  there,  a  little 
more  life,  and  less  expenditure  of  unrepaid  effort — 
that  to  the  long-enduring  worker  is  heaven. 

When  Dr.  Cornerstone  dropped  his  knapsack  at  the 
little  inn  at  Righchar  and  prepared  to  walk  over  to 
Jessamine's  village,  Scotland  entertained  in  him  as 
revolutionary  a  guest  as  had  ever  visited  her.  He  had 
a  superfluity  of  disdain  for  shams ;  he  knew  of  no 
worth  save  the  worth  of  a  man.  Where  the  laird  and 
his  "  rights  "  were  concerned,  instead  of  a  conscience 
was  a  cheery  jest ;  his  sentences  dispersed  time- 
honored  claims  ;  and  he  scattered  his  intensely  modern 
spirit  in  words  that  dissolved  the  pious  pretenses  of 
property. 

As  to  the  genuine  grievance  and  human  need,  he 
sought  it  out  by  tavern  tables  and  at  the  wayside,  and 
the  sympathy  he  gave  was  here,  as  elsewhere,  tonic. 
He  did  not  soothe  with  words  of  resignation  and  a 
reference  to  compensations  hereafter,  but  used  the 
laird's  word  "  rights "  in  strange  contexts,  and  sum- 
moned up  revolt  in  the  heart  by  the  suggestion  of  a 
remedy,  leaving  in  the  breasts  of  Scotch  peasants,  as 
elsewhere  that  he  touched,  the  first  dawning  concep- 
tion of  free  man-  and  woman-hood — the  dawning  of  it 


324  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

in  minds  astonished  at  themselves  for  what  they  began 
to  harbor,  but  proud  and  secretly  joyful. 

Jessamine  had  been  at  rest  for  nine  months  before 
the  doctor  found  his  opportunity  of  fulfilling  his  wish 
to  visit  Colin  Macgillvray.  The  continued  existence 
of  the  man  was  a  matter  of  speculation  ;  but  knowing 
the  persistent  habit  of  the  Highland  peasant,  he  had 
little  doubt  on  that  score.  He  plodded  over  the  long 
white  road  where  Colin  and  Jessamine  had  driven 
together  on  the  occasion  of  the  encounter  with  the 
sheep,  and  where  they  had  sauntered  the  evening  after 
the  sports,  without  being  certain  that  he  followed  in 
her  steps. 

And  yet  he  found  the  road  full  of  her. 

The  moors,  the  hills,  the  forests,  the  beautiful  and 
desolate  parts,  were  things  on  which  .her  eyes  had 
rested,  and  he  saw  them  in  the  light  of  that  thought. 
When  the  houses  and  the  hovels  became  a  little  less 
scattered — and  even  to-day  that  was  all  which  could 
be  said — he  knew  that  he  neared  "Jessamine's  village  " 
and  her  hiding  place. 

Pausing  by  a  large  field  that  edged  the  road  with  a 
wire-fence  inclosure,  he  scanned  the  near  country. 
The  fence  was  spiked  to  prevent  the  trespassing  legs 
of  truant  children  or  of  tramps,  and  a  man  drove  a 
mowing  machine  round  the  field,  and  the  barley  fell 
with  a  musical  sigh. 

"  Mechanism  even  here,"  said  the  doctor.  "  One 
would  welcome  the  iron  man,  did  the  fruits  but  fall  into 
the  right  lap." 

And  then  he  hailed  his  agricultural  fellow-mortal. 

A  shouted  conversation   ensued,    in    the  course  of 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN,  325 

which  the  doctor  seemed  to  encounter  many  shades 
of  many  McKenzies,  the  description  of  none  of  whom 
wholly  satisfied  him. 

"There  will  be  Peter  McKenzie  living  west  " — here 
his  informant  pointed  vaguely  with  his  whip  in  the 
direction  from  which  the  doctor  had  laboriously 
trudged — "  McKenzie  Craigowrie  they  call  him  ;  and 
there  will  be  Alexander  McKenzie  south." 

Here  he  pointed  over  the  valley  and  the  river  to  a 
distance,  beautiful  indeed,  but  desolating  when  contem- 
plated from  the  point  of  view  of  a  journey  of  research. 

"  I  don't  know  of  any  John  McKenzie  nearer  than 
Muirton." 

That  was  thirty  miles  off  if  an  inch. 

"  John  McKenzie  Drynock,"  said  the  doctor,  falling 
into  the  country  manner — which  had  been  easy  to 
Jessamine's  tongue — of  naming  the  peasant  after  his 
bit  of  hired  land. 

"  Drynock  ?  Drynock  ?  "  repeated  the  man.  "  Dry- 
nock  will  be  yon." 

Here  he  pointed  his  whip  to  the  slight  appearance 
of  chimney-pots  and  the  side  of  a  barn  amid  a  cluster 
of  birch  trees. 

"Willie  Macbain  owns  Drynock.  And  I'm  not 
knowing  any  John  McKenzie  nearer  than  Muirton." 

Here  he  lifted  his  hat,  shouted  "  Hadoof !  "  to  his 
horses,  and  the  fall  of  the  barley  continued. 

The  doctor  walked  on  in  the  direction  of  Drynock. 

He  found  a  handsome  modern  farm-building  erected 
on  the  ground  where  the  McKenzies'  curious  dwelling- 
house,  with  its  superfluity  of  doors  and  paucity  of 
windows,  had  once  stood. 


326  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

He  walked  up  to  the  entrance,  knocked,  and  in- 
quired for  John  McKenzie. 

"  There  will  be  no  John  McKenzie  here.  This  will 
be  Willie  Macbain's." 

The  doctor  sat  down  in  the  porch  and  wiped  his 
brow,  though  in  truth  the  day  was  gray  and  cold,  not 
raining,  but  reminiscent  of  rain,  and  ready  to  rain 
again. 

To  all  inquiries  after  John  McKenzie,  all  tentatives 
toward  winning  some  lingering  legend  of  his  farm-help, 
the  woman  who  had  opened  the  door  at  Willie  Mac- 
bain's  was  blank.  Then  slowly,  almost  fearfully,  he 
inquired  after  the  man  whose  name  was  the  last  spoken 
murmur  on  the  dead  Jessamine's  tongue.  The  woman's 
face  brightened  a  little. 

"  There  will  be  changes,"  said  she,  "  and  Willie 
built  the  farmhouse  and  the  barns  himself.  He  will 
not  be  here  long,  you  see,  sir.  But  I'm  minding  it  all 
suddenly.  It  was  John  McKenzie  he  took  the  land  off, 
sir." 

"And  John  McKenzie?" 

"  Well,  sir,  I'm  thinking  he  just  went  off  to  Muirton. 
He  has  a  brother  there  in  the  timber  trade,  sir.  And 
land  will  be  ever  very  changeable.  So  he  went — him 
and  his  wife,  sir.  John  will  be  seeing  a  bit  into  the 
world,  whatever." 

"  And  Colin  Macgillvray,  what  of  him  ?  "  pursued 
the  doctor. 

"Oh,  Colin,  sir?"  The  woman  smiled  a  little. 
"  There  will  be  changes,  but  Colin  will  ever  be  for 
sticking.  He's  slaw,  sir." 

The  doctor  perceived  from  this  that,  whatever  else 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  327 

he  might  discover  in  Colin,  he  was  certainly  not  a 
prophet  within  his  own  country.  No  startling  achieve- 
ment had  marked  him  out  for  the  wondering  admira- 
tion of  his  fellows,  it  was  plain.  And  the  quality  of 
"  sticking  "  tells  chiefly  when  it  is  withdrawn. 

Dalfaber,  it  appeared,  was  in  very  measurable  dis- 
tance, and  the  doctor,  turning  away,  took  the  same 
road — the  little  path  through  the  heather — which  still 
to  his  fancy  palpitated  with  the  fall  of  .Jessamine's  fly- 
ing feet.  It  might  be  that  to  another  heart  than  his  it 
ever  beat  to  the  same  measure. 

The  aspect  of  Dalfaber  struck  him  as  dreary.  Where 
all  else  went  on  and  gathered  some  of  the  fruits  of 
modern  progress,  displaying  a  new  idea  in  the  shape  of 
a  good  barn  or  improved  implement  or  better  house 
building,  Dalfaber  stood  arrested.  There  was  precisely 
the  same  measure  of  application  as  before,  without  the 
faintest  sign  of  an  advancing  notion.  The  barns, 
which  had  been  built  before  Jessamine's  day  because 
the  still  older  ones  fell  down,  were  there,  of  course,  but 
the  worse  for  the  beating  on  them  of  the  winds  and 
showers  of  ten  years.  And  the  patch  of  land — the  six 
poor  fields  and  the  stretch  of  moor — had  the  pathetic 
look  which  land  wears  when  the  tilling  is  done  by 
steady  industry  without  the  aid  of  inventiveness.  Plod 
and  magnificent  patience — that  was  the  sum  put  into 
the  land  ;  mind  was  absent. 

As  to  the  small  stone  house  with  the  great  chimney, 
that  was  as  before.  Its  capacity  for  improvement  had 
not  been  taken  advantage  of ;  no  additional  building 
had  been  added,  no"r  had  one  square  inch  of  the  moor- 
land been  redeemed  for  a  garden.  In  the  same  primi- 


328  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

tive  way  as  ten  years  ago  the  fields  were  unfenced  and 
unwired,  and  the  straying  cattle  and  hens  were  shouted 
off  by  a  hired  lad,  though  the  acquisition  of  such  a 
help  must  have  been  a  difficult  matter. 

Over  the  clumps  of  heather,  blossoming  now  into  a 
rich  purple,  Dr.  Cornerstone  saw  the  shaggy,  broad 
heads  of  the  longhorns  snatching  bits  of  sweet  grass 
here  and  there,  and  looking  up  now  and  then  with 
wild,  startled,  threatening  eyes,  and  the  limping 
shapes  of  the  farm-horses  painfully  wandering  in 
search  of  pasture  with  their  fore- and  hind-legs  tied 
together. 

Picking  his  way  toward  the  door  of  the  small  stone 
house,  pitched  in  such  astonishing  ungarnished  deso- 
lateness  on  the  brink  of  the  moor,  the  doctor  mightily 
wondered  within  himself  what  manner  of  man  this 
winner  and  rejecter  of  the  heart  of  Jessamine  Halliday 
would  appear. 

As  he  approached,  the  smoke  swept  down  the  side 
of  the  house  from  the  great  gaping  chimney  in  a  mali- 
cious gust.  He  passed  the  dim  stained  window  where 
old  Rorie  used  to  descry  the  nearest  glimpses  of  a 
world  other  than  his  own  peat  fire,  and  stood  before  the 
ill-hung  door  and  knocked. 

It  seemed  a  great  while  before  his  knock  awakened 
any  movement  from  within.  Presently  he  heard  a  chair 
thrust  backj  the  sound  gave  him  the  impression  of  an 
empty  house,  or,  rather,  of  its  being  the  lonely  habita- 
tion of  one.  Slow,  firm  steps  were  followed  by  the 
opening  of  the  door,  and  a  man  stood  before  him,  lifting 
his  hand  and  touching  his  brow  in  the  distant  salute  of 
the  peasant.  The  action  waved  him  off  rather  than 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  329 

deferred  to  him,  and  the  doctor  recognized  at  once 
a  proud  and  solitary  nature. 

He  was  a  majestic-looking  man  of  about  forty  years, 
with  a  brown  weather-beaten  skin  and  a  broad  pair  of 
shoulders  having  a  slight  stoop,  which  appeared  rather 
as  a  patient  inclination  toward  the  ground  that  nurtured 
him  than  a  defect  in  the  figure.  The  face  touched  the 
imagination  of  his  visitor  at  once.  Slowness  and  firm 
patience  were  written  on  every  feature — a  temperate 
nature  with  untold  powers  of  endurance.  The  brow 
was  proud  and  the  lips  kindly.  As  to  the  eyes — the 
yellow-brown  orbs — when  he  opened  the  door  to  the 
doctor,  they  looked  at  him  full  of  a  long-waiting 
expectation ;  they  were  the  eyes  of  a  person  to  whom 
something  of  import,  long  delaying,  will  occur  at  last. 
Such,  indeed,  was  the  impress  of  the  whole  face. 

Save  for  this  it  was  clear  from  the  signs  of  mental 
conflict ;  but  hours  and  hours  of  waiting  had  writ 
themselves  upon  it ;  it  was  a  face  full  of  hope  deferred 
and  yet  courageously  cherished. 

These  eyes  of  his  changed  suddenly  when  they  met 
the  doctor's.  They  widened,  flashed,  and  settled  into 
certainty.  With  that,  holding  them  quietly  upon  his 
visitor,  he  awaited  from  him  the  first  word. 

"  I  come  from  London,"  began  the  doctor  gently. 

"  Walk  in,  sir,"  said  Colin ;  "  I  am  most  glad  to  see 
you." 

His  tone  was  subdued,  as  is  the  tone  of  one  to  whom 
the  feast  of  life  is  solemn.  Nevertheless,  as  he  spoke, 
the  doctor  knew  by  the  clearer  brownness  of  his  skin 
that  the  blood  had  forsaken  his  cheek,  and  that  his 
heart  was  throbbing. 


33°  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

He  followed  him  into  the  room  into  which  Jessa- 
mine had  so  timidly  stepped  on  the  occasion  of  her 
first  visit,  and  sat  down  as  she  had  done,  on  one  of  the 
carved  straight-backed  chairs. 

Colin  stood  before  his  visitor.  He  clasped  the  wrist 
of  one  hand  with  the  fingers  of  the  other,  and  looked 
out  of  the  window,  his  eyes  still  finding,  as  it  were, 
their  home  and  inspiration  among  the  hills.  A  man 
of  massive  strength  and  staying  power  both  physically 
and  mentally,  and  slow  as  he  had  been  described.  He 
did  not  hurry  now,  though  every  pulse  beat  thunders. 
He  waited,  with  the  same  large  patience  as  through 
ten  years  he  had  waited,  reluctant  to  snatch  hastily 
what  he  knew  had  come  to  him  at  last,  reserving  and 
ever  reserving  himself. 

"  You  live  alone  in  this  wide  and  airy  place  ?  "  said 
the  doctor,  who  was,  indeed,  impressed  by  the  sense 
of  boundlessness  which  Colin's  unfenced  fields  sug- 
gested, flowing  as  they  did  over  into  the  moorland 
tract,  and  on  from  that  to  the  mountains. 

"  My  father  and  my  mother  will  be  dead,"  answered 
Colin. 

"  And  you  are  not  married  ?  " 

The  yellow-brown  eyes  slid  from  the  hills,  and 
rested  on  his  visitor  a  trifle  startled.  They  were,  the 
doctor  remarked,  too  full  of  light.  The  Scotch  believe 
in  second  sight,  and  these  eyes,  the  doctor  thought, 
possessed  the  faculty.  Macgillvray  did  not  answer 
the  question  put  to  him,  but  his  lips  were  wistful. 
Vague  poetry,  wordless,  yet  done  into  ten  years  of 
patience,  struggled  in  his  throat.  It  was  still  torn  by 
the  moment  of  loss  ten  years  ago.  But  above  the 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    W0.}j.  33 l 

unseen  wound  Colin  kept  his  fancies.  When  all  else 
fails,  the  lover  finds  the  unseen  bread  on  which  to 
feed,  loaves  unmanufactured  and  unknown,  a  delicate 
and  growing  store  that  increases  with  the  use  ;  the 
guiltless  faithfulness  that  never  swerves,  and  which 
becomes  in  the  end  its  own  sustenance. 

Colin  without  reply  eyed  the  doctor,  with  his  face 
slowly  changing  under  the  stirring  of  deeply  repressed 
sensitiveness. 

"  I  bring  you — a  kind  of  message,"  said  the  latter 
huskily. 

"  From  Jessie  ?" 

The  long  unuttered  name — the  word  too  ever- 
present  to  be  spoken — loosed  itself  from  his  tongue 
with  trembling  reluctance. 

The  doctor  inclined  his  head. 

"  She  is  dead,"  said  Colin,  with  conviction. 

"  You  had  heard  it,  then  ?  "  asked  the  doctor,  both 
surprised  and  relieved. 

"  I  will  just  be  knowing  it,"  he  returned. 

And  then  he  seated  himself  as  though  he  needed 
support  under  the  strain  of  this  conversation,  but 
motioned  with  his  hand  that  the  doctor  should  con- 
tinue his  story.  And  that  was  a  difficult  thing  with  a 
man  who  knew  one  burning  chapter  off  by  heart,  who 
was  in  himself  the  essence  of  that  chapter,  but  who 
possessed  no  clew  to  the  beginning  or  the  end  of  the 
volume. 

Dr.  Cornerstone  endeavored  to  hint  as  clearly  as  he 
could  what  position  in  the  great  world  had  been  held 
by  the  McKenzies'  farm-help.  The  man  listened  at- 
tentively without  exhibiting  surprise. 


33  2  A    SUPERFLUOUS   WOMAN. 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed  !  "  said  he  ;  "  she  will  not  be  com- 
mon." 

The  doctor  came  to  her  marriage.  The  patient 
brows  of  the  peasant  changed  very  slightly. 

"  I  am  just  naething  but  a  farmer,"  said  he ;  "  and 
he  would  be  a  great  laird.  And  will  she  be  loving  him 
best  ?  She  was  bonnie  enough  to  be  queen." 

His  worship  disallowed  of  jealousy.  But  the  crux 
of  the  story  lay  here.  With  intense  painstaking  care, 
cutting  the  lines  at  each  sentence  a  little  deeper  to 
make  the  impressions  clearer,  the  doctor  strove  to 
render  truly  the  history  of  Jessamine.  He  was  deeply 
conscious  as  he  spoke  of  the  incongruity  between  this 
troubled  complex  tale,  and  the  massive  simplicity  of 
the  nature  that  had  the  right  to  hear  it.  A  silent 
mountainous  greatness  it  seemed  to  him,  akin  to  the 
scene  in  which  the  man  had  passed  his  days.  But  a 
nerve  of  Colin's  nature  burned  responsive  to  all  that 
concerned  Jessamine,  and  it  is  probable  the  Highlander 
understood  more  than  the  Londoner  guessed. 

"  It  will  just  open  locked  doors  to  me,"  said  he 
presently,  when  the  doctor  had  ceased  speaking. 
"  Whiles,"  he  added,  the  sensitive  reluctance  creeping 
again  into  his  face  when  he  spoke — "  whiles  I  have  felt 
as  though  it  had  all  been  a  dreaming  and  a  sleep,  and 
as  though  I  was  just  on  the  edge  of  waking.  You'll 
not  be  knowing  the  feel  of  that,  maybe,  sir  ?  I  must 
just  be  getting  up  to  open  the  door  and  look  ;  I  must 
just  be  turning  my  head  over  my  shoulder  to  catch 
sight  of  her  slipping  away  like  the  wraith  that  she 
was. 

"  Whiles  it  has  seemed  like  a  great  lonely  darkness, 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN.  333 

and  me  walking  in  it  forever  straight  on,  and  nothing 
at  the  end.  And  then  when  I  was  fit  to  lie  down  with 
a  sore  great  cry,  sir — if  you  will  excuse  the  liberty — I 
would  just  be  feeling  a  wee  bit  hand  in  mine,  and  a 
tug  against  my  shoulder.  And — you'll  not  know  the 
feel  of  it,  sir — the  loneliness  filled  up,  and  there  was 
ever  a  flutter  of  a  woman's  garment  after  me  in  the 
fields  and  on  the  moor. 

"  You  see,  sir,  I  changed  nothing.  I  was  ever  fear- 
ing, indeed,  to  turn  a  clod  that  her  wee  bit  foot  had 
pressed.  I  was  fearing  to  mend  up  and  alter,  lest  I 
should  take  something  that  her  hand  had  touched. 
And  I  was  ever  fearing  in  myself,  sir,  to  lose  her  from 
my  heart.  It  will  be  just  there  that  I  was  building  the 
new  house  for  her,  whatever. 

"  The  neighbors  laugh  and  call  me  slaw.  .  It  will 
seem  no  great  matter  to  me.  I'm  thinking  whiles  that 
the  roof  that  had  her  under  it  will  be  good  enough 
forme  indeed.  I'm  busy  at  another  kind  of  worruk. 
My  house  and  my  land  will  just  rot  down  with  my- 
self, sir,  and  my  Jessie  will  be  in  them  to  the  end." 

His  hands  moved  with  the  first  nervous  feeling  he 
had  exhibited,  and  the  doctor  surmised  the  stirring  of 
mighty  repressed  emotions. 

"  You'll  notice  what  I  said  of  building  her  a  house 
here,  sir?" 

And  he  laid  both  hands  together  with  a  gentle 
primitive  movement  against  his  heart. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  Aweel.  It  would  be  one  evening  last  autumn  that 
I  was  just  dozing  a  bit  by  my  fire  after  the  day's 
worruk  was  done.  And  I  will  hardly  know  if  I  was 


334  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

dreaming  or  not.  But,  indeed,  and  I  was  thinking 
that  I  saw  her  clear — face  to  face  again — a  wee  bit 
white  face  it  was,  and  it  lay  before  me  like  a  picture. 
I  am  not  knowing  if  I  was  dreaming  it  or  not,  but, 
indeed,  I  sat  looking,  and  fearing  to  move  lest  it 
should  go.  But  it  staid  with  me,  sir.  And  it  was  an 
uplift  to  a  sair,  sair  heart.  And  an  evening  or  two 
after  I  was  sitting  here  again,  and,  indeed,  I  was  think- 
ing and  waiting. 

"And  there  came  a  little  whisper.  It  will  perhaps 
just  be  an  echo.  She  would  be  saying  my  name 
whiles  long  ago  with  a  bit  of  a  laugh  at  the  end  of  it 
— to  get  it  right  she  would  be  saying.  And  I  just 
heard  her  voice  again  in  a  little  whisper: 

"  '  Colin  Macgillvray  Dalfaber! 

"  It  went  like  the  cut  of  a  sword  to  my  heart,  and 
set  me  all  listening  and  shaking.  I  sat  still  as  a 
mousie  listening  and  looking — looking.  God  !  how  a 
body  can  look  whiles !  I  was  feeling  her  just  behind 
me.  I  was  seeing  her  in  the  ingle  or  near  the  door.  I 
was  hearing  the  rustle  of  her  dress  past  the  window. 
And  then  I  knew  she  was  running  over  the  moor  to 
my  house.  So  then  I  sprang  up  and  opened  the  doors 
and  set  them  wide,  and  stood  looking  into  the  night, 
and  stretching  my  arms  for  her.  God !  how  a  body 
can  look  whiles!  I  thought  my  eyes  would  cut  the 
darkness  open.  God  !  how  the  soul  can  call  when  the 
tongue  is  still ! 

"  I  kept  the  door  ever  on  the  latch  all  these  years,  so 
that  she  could  never  be  saying  that  Colin's  door  was 
barred  against  her.  So  that  she  could  feel,  wherever 
in  the  world  she  hid,  that  my  door  was  open.  But 


A    SUPERFLUOUS    WO  AT  AN.  335 

that  night  I  threw  it  wide,  and  sat  and  bided.  And 
presently  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  house  I  had  been 
building  was  full." 

The  man's  head  dropped  suddenly,  and  he  covered 
his  face  with  a  great  sigh. 

"  You  will  understand,  sir,"  said  he  in  a  low  quiet 
voice,  when  he  had  regained  his  self-mastery,  "  that  I  just 
knew  she  was  dead,  and  had  come  to  me  that  way." 

The  doctor  said  nothing ;  he  stared  at  the  hills.  A 
great  silence  fell  between  the  two.  When  Colin  spoke 
again  it  was  with  his  ordinary  composure. 

"And  so  my  Jessie  was  a  great  leddie?"  said  he. 

The  doctor  marked  the  quietly  appropriating  pro- 
noun. 

"  In  the  world's  eye  she  was  so.  But  not  in  her 
own." 

"  She  was  just  a  wee  bit  thing,  and  it  would  be  a 
sight  of  turmoil  for  her." 

"  It  was  a  great  turmoil." 

"  She  loved  me  best  ?  " 

"  She  loved  you  only." 

"  I'm  just  a  common  farming  body.  But  she  was 
true." 

"  As  steel." 

Explanations,  definitions,  excuses,  and  all  the  glosses 
necessary  for  a  less  balanced  and  less  deep  nature, 
were,  the  doctor  perceived,  superfluous  here.  Colin 
had  the  sort  of  greatness  which  can  see  the  thing  in 
its  essence  without  the  small  despairing  restlessness  of 
those  who  curiously  inquire  into  the  imperfection  of 
detail.  The  lasting  and  the  eternal  were  enough  for 
him  ;  the  passing  flaws  went  unconsidered. 


336  A    SUPERFLUOUS    WOMAN. 

"  It  will  be  a  sight  of  comfort,"  he  said — "  a  sight  of 
comfort.  But  I  was  ever  knowing  it  in  my  heart, 
though  sore  perplexed  to  understand.  There  will  be 
things,"  he  added,  "  a  body  does  not  go  into  easily." 
He  made  one  of  his  long,  slow  pauses.  "  And  now," 
he  said  as  though  to  himself,  "  she  has  come  home." 

The  .doctor  rose.  Macgillvray  rose  also,  wearing 
that  hospitable  manner  which  sat  well  on  his  proud 
and  lone  nature.  His  visitor  murmured  something  of 
finding  his  way  there  another  year. 

"  I  shall  be  most  glad,  whatever,"  said  he,  with  his 
gentle  aloof  air. 

As  he  stood  at  the  door,  Dr.  Cornerstone  turned  to 
get  another  glimpse  into  the  yellow-brown  eyes,  and  he 
saw  that  they  glanced  past  his  shoulder,  and  rested 
upon  the  mountains. 

"  The  hills  look  butifully,"  said  Colin. 

And  then  he  raised  his  hand  quietly  in  the  peasant's 
salute. 


THE  END. 


"  A   DANGEROUS  AND  DIFFICULT   SUBJECT    FOR  A  NOVEL." 
—  Tke  American  Woman's  llluilrated  H'orld. 


THE  HEAVENLY  TWINS. 

By   SARAH   GRAND. 

In  one  large  izrno  volume  of  nearly  700  pages.     Extra  cloth, 
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and  not-to-be-forgotten  book." — The  World. 

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— are  delightfully  funny.  No  more  original  children  were  ever  put 
in  a  book." — The  Academy. 

"  The  moral  which  the  author  undertakes  to  enforce  is  that  the 
sacrifice  of  pure  women  in  marriage  to  men  of  vicious  lives  is  not 
only  a  crime  against  the  individual,  but  against  society  itself." — 
Boston  Beacon. 

"  The  work  swarms  with  wise  sayings  and  noble  counsels." — 
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"  This  book  is  one  full  of  talent,  and  not  of  talent  misapplied,  for 
'  The  Heavenly  Twins'  is  strong  enough  to  assert  itself  and  to  point 
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"  Whether  or  not  a  pure  woman  marrying  has  a  right  to  equal 
purity  in  the  man  she  marries — this  is  the  problem  attempted  by 
Sarah  Grand  in  her  heroine's  behalf  in  '  The  Heavenly  Twins.'  It 
is  an  earnest  book,  showing  its  author's  cultured  mind  on  every 
page."—  Table  Talk. 

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author's  song  is  the  emancipation  of  woman  and  the  establishment 
of  a  stricter  moral  standard  for  man.  From  one  end  to  the  other 
it  is  interesting,  in  spots  intensely  and  absorbingly  so." — Kate  Field's 
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Mrs.  Alexander's  Latest  Novel. 

The  Snare  of  the  Fowler. 

BY  MRS.  ALEXANDER. 

AUTHOR   OF  "THE  WOOING  O'T,"   "WHICH  SHALL  i-s  BE?" 
ETC.,  ETC. 


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tained."— Baltimore  American. 

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Philadelphia  Evening  Bulletin. 

"  Mrs.  Alexander  is  a  dexterous  handler  of  plots." — Boston  Courier. 

"  Those  who  have  read  her  previous  works  will  not  be  disappointed 
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"  Pleasing  from  beginning  to  end." — Boston  Times. 


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THE   EMIGRANT  SHIP, 


By  W.  CLARK  RUSSELL, 

'tor  of"List,  ye  Landsmen  !  "  ''''The  Romance  of  a  Transit 
"The  Wreck  of  the  Grosvenor"  etc.,  etc. 

One  Volume.        12mo.        Cloth.        S1.OO. 


"  The  story  is  told  with  excellent  directness,  and  the  atmosphere  of  life  aboard 
an  emigrant  ship  is  admirably  conveyed  to  the  reader.  There  is  no  sea  technicality 
to  spealc  of,  the  whole  interest  of  the  story  being  concentrated  in  the  hero's  plan 
to  develop  a  crew  among  his  women  passengers.  On  the  whole,  '  The  Emigrant 
Ship'  is  one  of  the  most  readable  of  Mr.  Russell's  charming  tales." — New  York 
Times. 

"  For  a  very  fine  tonic  in  the  way  of  fiction  commend  us  always  to  Mr.  Clark 
Russell.  The  sea  never  fails  to  lash  itself  in  a  most  beautiful  manner  when  he  is 
about.  He  has,  perhaps,  as  vigorous  a  vocabulary  as  anybody  now  going.  He 
can  talk  in  strong  and  splendid  phrase  too  of  more  things  than  the  sea."  —  New 
York  Sun. 

"  On  the  whole,  the  best  which  Mr.  Russell  has  produced.  It  is  beautifully 
bound  and  makes  a  marine  library  without  it  seem  poverty-stricken." — Boston 
Daily  Traveller. 

"  Is  readable  from  beginning  to  end.  No  better  sea  story  has  been  written." — 
Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

"  The  keen  salt  breath  of  the  sea  flows  through  all  his  descriptions,  and  he 
makes  his  readers  feel  its  inspiration  as  he  feels  it  himself.  No  one  knows  better 
the  methods  of  ocean  life,  and  no  one  handles  its  fascination  more  subtly  or  skill- 
fully, while  for  the  reader  who  loves  a  story  for  the  story's  sake  this  tale  is  worth 
half  a  dozen  of  modern  '  society  '  novels." — New  York  Commercial  Advertiser. 

"  Will  appeal  to  all  such  as  love  the  sea  and  the  free  and  breezy  stories  of  it 
which  are  characteristic  of  this  keen  student  and  ardent  lover  of  its  moods  and 
vagaries." — New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

"  There  is  a  genuine  sea  flavor  to  Clark  Russell's  stories,  a  salty  taste,  a  smell  of 
ropes  and  rigging,  and  the  bracing  freshness  of  the  ocean  air.  There  is  also  the 
freedom  of  the  broad  seas,  but  with  all  this  there  is  neither  the  vulgarity  nor  the 
deyilishness  which  so  many  nautical  writers  seem  to  think  it  necessary  to  affect. 
His  sea  tales  are  original  to  a  striking  degree,  they  are  never  dull,  and  withal  they 
are  clean  and  wholesome.  They  make  good  reading  for  old  boys  as  well  as 
young." — Baltimore  Telegram. 

"  The  sea  stories  of  W.  Clark  Russell  have  delighted  readers  for  a  goodly  num- 
ber of  years,  and  a  new  story  by  the  author  of  '  The  Wreck  of  the  Grosvenor  '  is 
always  hailed  with  delight.  .  .  That  the  story  is  of  thrilling  interest  and  novelty 
goes  without  saying." — Boston  Journal. 

"  It  is  bright,  interesting,  strong.  .  .  There  is  more  of  human  nature  in  it  than 
in  any  of  his  previous  books." — New  York  World. 

"  Where  is  the  boy,  old  or  young,  with  a  heart  in  him  who  doesn't  know  how 
incomparably  well  he  writes  his  amazing  adventures  on  the  high  seas  ?  Here  we 
have  a  story  which  could  only  by  any  possible  chance  proceed  from  the  pen  of 
Mr.  ~Russe\\."— Philadelphia  Press. 

"  W.  Clark  Russell  stands  without  a  peer  as  a  master  in  telling  marine  stories. 
He  is  thoroughly  at  home  at  sea,  and  his  new  novel,  '  The  Emigrant  Ship,'  is  one 
of  his  best.  The  plot  is  fresh  and  the  development  is  most  skillful."— Boston 
Daily  Advertiser. 

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